


Of Faith and Hope and Love

by versaphile



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arthur Finds Out, BAMF Arthur, Baby Dragon, Canon Era, Destiny, Dragons, Episode Related, Episode: s04e07 The Secret Sharer, Hurt Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic Revealed, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versaphile/pseuds/versaphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To lose a manservant once may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose him twice looks like carelessness. When Merlin vanishes in the mines of Kemeray, Arthur's search for him uncovers decades of secrets and betrayals. But the sudden appearance of a baby white dragon bodes well for Albion, for Merlin and Arthur, and for the land that they will build together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Of Faith and Hope and Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10065953) by [Aconit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aconit/pseuds/Aconit)



> [Alby_Mangroves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alby_Mangroves/pseuds/Alby_Mangroves) has made a beautiful drawing for the story: [Entrusted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/965328/). It's embedded along with the scene that it's for later in the story, so you may want to read on before clicking over to her link. But do go leave her kudos and comments for her lovely artwork!
> 
> A second illustration has been added to chapter 4: The Golden Cord by [16th-of-a-twigg](https://16th-of-a-twigg.tumblr.com/). It beautifully illustrates the climactic moment of the story. Go check it out!

_"For the present we see things as if in a mirror, and are puzzled; but then we shall see them face to face. For the present the knowledge I gain is imperfect; but then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known."  
\- Weymouth New Testament_

§

"We should split up," Merlin says, scanning the dark tunnels for any sign of Gaius. The fear that has been growing in him ever since Gaius disappeared is almost overwhelming now. He knows Agravaine is behind this, knows Gaius is at the mercy of Morgana and she has little mercy left in her these days. He's trying hard not to imagine the worst, because he doesn't think his heart could take it.

"Yeah," Gwaine agrees, holding his torch out as if to light all the tunnels with it. Neither direction looks particularly fruitful, but the iron ore brought them here, and the dead guard confirmed that they're close to something.

"Gwaine, if you find him, don't wait for me," Merlin says, and hurries into the dark tunnels. There's just enough light to keep him from walking into the walls. He's startled by the orange flicker of a torch ahead, and ducks out of sight. Another guard walks past, pausing long enough that Merlin worries he's been seen, but then he's gone. Merlin wastes no time in hurrying on his way.

He reaches a large room with fresh signs of mining, and it's a dead end. He turns around and barely has a chance to realize that Morgana is blocking the way before she has sent him flying. He gasps on the ground, all the air knocked out of him. If he was disguised as Dragoon, he could defend himself, throw her across the room and hear her body thud against the ragged stone. But he's not Dragoon, he's Merlin, and unless he wants to kill her he can't let her know he has magic.

He knows he should kill her. Morgana has killed so many people already. She has a traitor in Arthur's court, and who knows what evil she plots next. But he can no more kill her than he could kill Uther, or Agravaine himself. For Arthur, he will let them live, and take the blood onto his own hands. What's a few more dead, at this point? 

He can never tell Arthur the truth about himself. Not after his foolish attempt to save Uther only allowed Morgana her final revenge against him. If Arthur ever found out, Merlin would lose him. He has carried Arthur this far, to the crown and the throne and the kingship Arthur was meant for, but that's all the more reason why he can't give up now. Arthur still has Albion to build, and Merlin has to be there for him. No matter what the cost.

"You really are a thorn in my side, aren't you?" Morgana says, walking slowly towards him as he struggles for breath. "When will you learn not to meddle with things you couldn't possibly understand?"

A knife flings from her hand and for a moment Merlin thinks _this is it, this is it_ , but instead of plunging into his throat it hovers before him. He crawls backwards to escape it and it chases after him, its point sharp and menacing in the dim light. He hits the wall and stops, and the knife waits patiently for the command to strike.

"It's difficult, isn't it? When there are so many different and painful ways for me to be finally rid of you."

"I don't care what you do to me," Merlin spits, angrily. "I want to know what you've done to Gaius."

"Well, Gaius had some information I needed. The whereabouts of the sorcerer Emrys." Morgana smirks, and Merlin can just barely see the ghost of her old self there, in her smug smile. "If he gave it to me willingly, his suffering would not be prolonged. But if he did not..."

"If you've harmed him," Merlin warns. He aches to wipe that smug smile away, to send her flying and see the shock and horror in her eyes as she realizes the truth. Whatever she has done to Gaius, he wants her to suffer doubly, triply over. 

Morgana continues gloating, delighting in Merlin's glares. "Why are we discussing his fate when it's time to decide yours? Not whether you're going to die alone here in this godforsaken place. That's gonna happen anyway."

A man enters, and Merlin realizes it's the one that passed him in the tunnels. He's holding some kind of staff, and Merlin realizes with a start that he must be a Druid. The Druids... have they turned against him? They had seemed so fervent in their belief that he is their Emrys. Not that he knows what that even means, really, or has done anything to embrace it. He's not entirely surprised, because he's been at least half-convinced that the Druids are mistaken, but his heart sinks because it seems now they've finally realized that for themselves. He's no one's savior.

Still, it was nice while it lasted. It was nice to have someone know what he is, even if they thought he was someone else. Someone better. He's certain that Morgana makes wonderful promises, even if she has no intention of fulfilling them. Even if their Emrys has been a disappointment, the Druids don't deserve to take a viper to their own necks.

"But how," Morgana continues, deciding how best to carve the flesh from Merlin's bones. "Or more precisely, how painfully." She nods to the Druid. "Alator. This is Merlin."

Alator stares at Merlin. Merlin realizes with surprise that as the the whole reason for kidnapping Gaius was to find out what he knew about Emrys, and Morgana is working with Druids, the Druids have... not betrayed him? It's not a huge relief when there's a knife hovering inches from his face, but maybe there's still hope. Maybe he can appeal to Alator and promise to do better, to try harder for them if they'll help him save Gaius.

"He's just a serving boy," Morgana continues, "but he's the most troublesome serving boy I've ever known. I take it your time with Gaius was fruitful?"

"Gaius told me everything," Alator says, and Merlin braces himself for what's to come. Once his secret is out, he'll have to fight, may even have to kill. He doesn't want to but he doesn't have a choice. If Morgana finds out and escapes, she will use the knowledge against him and he won't be able to keep Arthur safe anymore. And then Morgana will win. Merlin can't let that happen.

"So you know who Emrys is?"

"Indeed I do," says Alator solemnly. He walks towards Merlin and crouches before him, and Merlin glares to convey all the anger he feels at being forced into this position. If he wasn't good enough for them, they could have just left him alone. They could have let him stay in the shadows, protecting Arthur, as he always has. That should have been enough. Arthur is the one with the real destiny, anyway; Merlin knows that now. He's is only here to protect Arthur along the way.

"Not only do I know who Emrys is," Alator continues, looking Merlin right in the eyes, "I know exactly where he is."

"Then tell me," Morgana says, and Merlin hates Emrys, hates the man he'll never be, and because he's not enough Emrys is going to destroy everything that Merlin loves.

And then Alator turns to Morgana and says, "Never," and Merlin is so stunned with relief that he barely has time to react as Alator turns his staff on Morgana and sends her hurtling into stone with a painful thud. Her knife drops to the earth and Merlin scrambles to his feet, reeling.

"Merlin, I am Alator of the Catha. I am honoured to be of service."

 _Catha?_ Merlin wonders. Not a Druid then, or not the Druids that Merlin is familiar with. "You have magic," he accuses, trying to make sense of what's happened.

"I understand the burden you carry," Alator explains. "I have lived with it all my life. I have been shunned, persecuted, and sometimes even hunted in every corner of the five kingdoms. I understand what that feels like. You're not alone. From what Gaius told me, I do not have your great powers, Merlin, but I share your hopes. For I, and others like me, have dreamt of the world you seek to build. And we would gladly give our lives to help you do it."

Alator kneels, but for once Merlin doesn't feel like he's being talked down to for his ignorance, or praised only because that is what prophecy says he deserves. It feels like someone actually _understands_ him, knows that he's trying and actually wants to help him. It's so unexpected that Merlin has no idea how to react, but he feels a rush of gratitude that nearly overwhelms him.

Maybe he doesn't have to do this alone.

"Thank you," he says at last, voice choked with emotion. "Please, stand up, I don't... you don't have to do that." He takes a shuddering breath, dizzied from how quickly his life nearly fell apart and then came back together again. "Gaius," he says, alarm rushing back to him as he realizes that even if Alator has decided to ally himself with Emrys now, he must have done something awful to Gaius to get him to admit Emrys' identity.

"He is--" Alator says, and then stops.

"Alator?" Merlin says, and then steps back in alarm as Alator falls forward, Morgana's knife sticking out of his back. Morgana is grinning as she lowers her hand, and she laughs and laughs as she wobbles to her feet.

"We meet again, _Emrys_ ," Morgana purrs. 

There's not much point in denying it now. Merlin scrambles for Alator's staff and aims it at Morgana, recalling the words Alator spoke when he fired it at her. But Morgana is expecting it this time and ducks out of the way of the blast. Before he can fire again, she sends him hurtling into the wall behind him, and the pain is sharp and staggering. 

He has to stop her before it's too late. Has to save Gaius, save Gwaine, save Arthur. He has to get up, but the world is narrowing, narrowing, and he can't breathe. The last thing he sees is Morgana's smiling face above him, and her hand reaching out, fingers bent like claws.

§

"It seems I misjudged Gaius," Agravaine says, with what ought to sound like sincere regret. "Merlin was right all along."

It doesn't sound very sincere to Arthur.

"We were lucky he found him," he says, tersely. 

"Indeed," Agravaine agrees, easily. "If it hadn't been for the tenacity of your boy, Gaius would be dead. We _both_ owe Gaius and Merlin an apology, my lord."

The touch of inflection is almost subtle, trying to guide Arthur to forget that it was Agravaine who came to him with his suspicions, Agravaine who insisted on questioning Gaius. Agravaine who searched the physician's chambers and found the incriminating book, which seems paltry evidence of treason in light of Gaius' condition. Arthur has not forgotten the last time Gaius was accused of sorcery, and the discovery that Aredian had planted evidence in order to justify his suspicions.

Even though his uncle is his mother's brother, sometimes Arthur could swear Agravaine speaks with his father's voice. The constant warnings about betrayal and sorcery come from him as if from the grave, as if his father haunts him through Agravaine's tongue. 

If Gaius had not disappeared, Arthur would have put an end to Agravaine's witch hunt. He knows that Gaius would never betray him. He knows that. But it was so easy to forget when he was stung by Gaius' abandonment. Merlin had been in tears over Gaius leaving without a word, and Arthur had been angrier more on his behalf than on his own. He had been furious with Gaius for leaving Merlin without a word, furious with Gaius for betraying the both of them, and at a loss to explain any of it.

The explanation had been simple all along. Gaius is innocent. And of the people who had known about both the treaty and the secret route they'd planned through the Valley of the Fallen Kings -- Arthur, Gaius, and Agravaine -- only one possible traitor is left. 

Arthur spares one last glance for Gaius, still unconscious as Guinevere gently mops his brow, and walks out of the room. He needs to be alone with his thoughts, needs to consider his course of action. 

"Merlin!" he calls, his voice resounding through the hallway. Gwaine had said that Merlin was right behind them when they rode out. Arthur would have expected him to be hovering around Gaius along with Guinevere by now, yet he's nowhere to be seen. "Merlin!" he calls, and wonders why it is that even as king he's constantly having to chase after his own manservant.

"Ah, Gwaine, good," Arthur says, catching him on the stairs. "Have you seen Merlin?"

"I thought he was with you," Gwaine frowns. "He should be back by now."

"Maybe he's down at tavern again," Arthur says, feeling a headache coming on. Lately Merlin always seems to be there, especially when Arthur needs him most. 

"The tavern?" Gwaine asks, as if baffled that Arthur would even suggest it.

"Yes, the _tavern_ ," Arthur says, impatiently. He mimes a mug of ale and quaffing it.

Gwaine looks at him as if he's gone a bit mad, and Arthur feels the possibility is not out of the question right now. Then Gwaine shakes his head. "I don't like this. I'm going back to Kemeray." He turns and heads down the stairs, but Arthur puts a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Wait. It's too late to ride all the way there tonight. If Merlin is delayed he'll probably have the sense to camp out rather than risk riding in the dark."

"It's a full moon," Gwaine points out. "And Merlin had no trouble riding through the night to rescue Gaius."

"And you're both lucky you didn't break your necks," Arthur says. "Look, saving Gaius was an emergency. Merlin's probably fine."

"We don't know that," Gwaine says, frowning again. Arthur sees the dark circles under his eyes, the fine tremors of exhaustion.

"He's probably as tired as you are and had the sense to sleep it off. Neither of you have slept in two days," Arthur reminds him. "You've been riding for hours. You're no good to Merlin if you're asleep on your feet. Get some rest and we'll ride out at first light."

"Mother hen," Gwaine grumbles, but throws up his hands. "Fine, fine. First light, and not a minute later. And don't even think of leaving without me."

Arthur watches him stumble off to his quarters, and tells himself that there's no reason for the dread that's tightening up his insides. No reason at all.

§

Merlin gasps awake to a splash of cold water and a painful pulling in his arms. For a moment he thinks he's dreaming, that this is just another nightmare of being trapped in Morgana's hovel, the Fomorroh hissing and writhing and drawing closer and closer so it can burrow into him and--

But no. No, this is worse than a nightmare.

"Good morning, Emrys," Morgana smiles, delighting in the name. 

Merlin tries to reply and realizes that he's been gagged, no doubt to prevent him from performing any spells. Morgana doesn't know that Merlin doesn't need to speak to do quite a lot of magic, but he decides to play along for the moment. He's learned that it's best to see what he's up against before he makes his move. 

At least he doesn't have to worry about the Fomorroh anymore.

"So you're my doom," she says. She laughs with a sort of tinkling madness that ends in a vicious snarl, and Merlin only has a moment to see her eyes glow before pain whites out his world again. When he comes back to himself, he's limp and trembling, his chest heaving for air, and Morgana is almost languid with pleasure.

"And to think, all this time," she says, the words dripping off her tongue, "you were right under my nose. The mighty Emrys, a snivelling serving boy."

Merlin glares at her, wishing he could speak.

Morgana walks slowly around him, dragging a nail along his body. "Alator said you have great powers. I should have known you were hiding something. How else could you have stopped me?" When she comes around again, she stops and grabs him by the chin. "Such a good little liar. I wonder what Arthur would think? Would you still like me to tell him all of your grand accomplishments? Do you think he would be proud if he knew you did them with magic?"

Merlin tries to pull free of her grip, but she only tightens it painfully, her nails digging into his skin.

"All this time," she says, wondrously. "And Arthur has no idea."

Merlin has had enough. He has to end this now, has to kill Morgana and get back to Camelot. He looks past Morgana and scans the room for something to use. The hovel hasn't changed since he was last held here, shabby and cluttered with pots and jars. He doesn't see any weapons, but Morgana would hardly have need of any. He could fling the heavy iron pot across the room and-- his stomach roils at the thought. He can't bring himself to do it. He can't kill her. Not as long as he can still see the friend she used to be.

 _What happened to you, Morgana?_ he thinks, desperately. _You used to have so much heart._

But Merlin knows what happened to her. _He_ happened to her. He looked her in the eye and fed her poison and held her as she died. And even though Morgause saved her life, the old Morgana might never return. But Merlin can't be responsible for destroying what's left of her. He still has hope, still believes there's something there that can be saved.

He only has to disable her, knock her out long enough so that he can free himself. He doesn't know which sounds less promising: the idea of trying to talk Morgana into keeping his secret, or the idea of telling Arthur the truth, that he's the sorcerer who killed his father. Who poisoned his sister and freed the Great Dragon. If Morgana doesn't kill him, Arthur surely will.

Sometimes Merlin wishes he'd never met the Pendragons. It would have made his life so much easier.

"Have you turned him into your puppet?" Morgana coos, eyes glittering in the dimness. "How long have you been whispering into his ear?"

There's a pile of folded cloths on one of the shelves. Merlin pulls at them with his magic and they fly towards Morgana, gagging her and covering her head. She stumbles back in shock, pulling at the cloth, but Merlin's magic holds it firm and she can't speak any spells to counteract him. Merlin turns his attention to his own bindings, and magics open the knot of his gag. He pushes the fabric out with his tongue and looks up at the bindings on his wrist.

" _Fæstnunga onlucan me!_ ," he commands, and his magic surges but the bindings do not release. " _Min strengest miht hate þe tospringan!_ " A familiar pain flares in his wrists and shoots down his arms. He curses under his breath, reeling. She must have used the same spell that Morgause did when they bound him and left him in the forest for the Serkets. 

" _Hierste þæt íecen sóna!_ " Morgana shouts -- his distraction must have allowed her to break free -- and Merlin screams in agony as the pain intensifies.

"I don't know how you did that," she says, catching her breath, "But I'm going to have to keep you on a shorter leash from now on." She presses her hand to Merlin's forehead and starts to speak, and it feels like he's being pushed back and down, down into darkness. At least it's away from the pain. 

He lets himself fall.

§

"You must stop making a habit of this," Guinevere says. She looks worried and lovely in the pale morning light, her hands knotting together and her brow drawn.

"Tell that to Merlin," Arthur says, and swings up onto his horse. Gwaine is already mounted, and he looks tired but he must have managed some sleep. Gwaine is worried, Guinevere is worried, everyone is worried. Even Gaius is worried, or so Guinevere tells him; he's finally awake but still weak, and Arthur will talk to him when he gets back, preferably with Merlin slung over his horse.

If Merlin decided to spend the day picking berries, Arthur is going to haul him back to Camelot, shout at him, and then put him in the stocks for days. Or shout at him, and then haul him back to Camelot. Or--

"You could send a patrol. You don't have to go yourself," Guinevere says, though it's a weak protest because she already knows what he'll say to it.

He says it anyway. "Yes, I do. Merlin is my responsibility. It's my fault he went out there in the first place." And he doesn't trust the patrols. They searched for a whole day and couldn't find Merlin the last time he went missing, and it only took Arthur a couple of hours. Arthur has the most experience rescuing Merlin, it only makes sense for him to go. 

"You couldn't have known," Guinevere says, offering absolution.

"I should have," Arthur says. He woke up even more angry with himself than he had been when he went to sleep. Seeing George's polite, subservient face only made everything worse. 

Arthur is supposed to be the king. He prepared his entire life for this, and now that it's here, now that he's actually doing it, he feels completely lost. Morgana is still trying to kill him, he has a traitor in his court, and he no longer knows who he can trust or who he should listen to or what the right thing to do is. If Merlin was here, Arthur could rant and ramble at him until things began to make sense. But without him... 

Merlin's absence gnaws at him like something worse than hunger.

It shouldn't have been Gwaine that Merlin turned to when he needed help. It should have been Arthur. That's how it always used to be between them, and that didn't change because Gwaine joined them. It seems that Arthur has finally found something that makes Merlin behave respectfully towards him, that makes him keep his distance like the others, and it turned out to be his crown. He never knew it would be so lonely to be the king.

"Don't worry, darling," Gwaine assures her. "I'll bring his highness back safe and sound."

"Thank you, Sir Gwaine," Guinevere, with a little bow and a smile. "I'm certain that Merlin is all right."

"Yeah," Gwaine says, but he doesn't sound like he believes it either.

They set off.

It's midday by the time they near Kemeray, and all Arthur can think about is how familiar all of this is, riding out with Gwaine in pursuit of his wayward manservant. Despite Gwaine's incessant nattering, the fresh air is just what Arthur needed -- though perhaps it's more the chance to escape the castle and the unpleasantries that still await his return. 

Even though Arthur is glad of the excuse to get away, right now he would trade his finest horse if Merlin would just stumble out of the woods again, filthy and grinning. He had hoped that they would meet Merlin halfway and discover that he had merely been delayed for a while, perhaps lost in the network of tunnels that forms the iron mine. Arthur has been there several times before, the first time as a child, and his initial impression of it as an giant maze has always stuck with him. He could easily imagine Merlin becoming disoriented and taking hours to stumble back out again, and then staying the night because it was too dark to ride.

Merlin is probably fine. Agravaine said that the kidnappers had already left by the time the three of them arrived. It's not like the last time, when Merlin had been badly wounded and surrounded by vicious mercenaries and Arthur had been forced to abandon him. There's nothing that should compel him to urge on his horse more than he should. 

But then, Agravaine may have lied.

They reach the caves and Merlin's horse is gone. Arthur remembers the report of the missing horse that Gaius had supposedly escaped with, and won't be fooled a second time with the same trick. They light their torches and enter the caves, following the path that Gwaine last saw Merlin follow. Even in the flickering torchlight, Arthur can make out footprints in the sandy earth, and Merlin's familiar prints lead in but they do not lead out again.

It could mean nothing. The mine is a rabbit's warren of crossed paths, and Merlin probably went out a different way than he came in. But they follow on regardless.

The torchlight catches the shape of a body ahead, and a cold spike of fear steals Arthur's breath. It's a race between him and Gwaine to get there first, but they both realize before they even reach it that it is far too large a shape to belong to Merlin. They slow down, cautious as they approach.

They pull the knife from his back and turn him over. He's a rough-looking man, bald and tattooed. He wears robes and even dead he has an air of ritual about him. His body is cold.

"Do you recognize him?" Arthur asks.

Gwaine shakes his head. "Looks like there was a fight." He casts his torch around the room, and Arthur does the same. The only exit is the way they came in, and the footprints tell the story of a scuffle between three people: Merlin, the dead man, and... a woman.

"Merlin came in first," Arthur says, peering at the ground. "Then the other two. Merlin retreated here, then..." He frowns.

"It wasn't Merlin that killed him," Gwaine realizes. "The other one did." He holds the knife up to the light, then tosses it to Arthur to inspect. Neither of them recognize it; it's just a simple knife. It must have struck hard and precisely to kill so large a man. A knife thrower would need great skill to achieve it, but it would be easy enough with magic.

Merlin's footsteps continue on past the body, and for a moment Arthur has hope that maybe Merlin found another way out after all. But then the footprints stop abruptly, as if he had been thrown from his feet into the air. More magic, and Arthur can no longer deny the evidence before him.

"Morgana," he mutters.

Gwaine curses. "She took him, didn't she? I _knew_ I should have gone back for him."

"Why didn't you?" Arthur asks, because it is odd that Gwaine would leave Merlin behind.

Gwaine hesitates, and his expression is in turns guilty and furious. "I knew he was up to no good. I _knew_ it. Checking his breath my _arse_." He rubs at his face and turns to Arthur, and when he speaks his voice is full of regret. "When I found Agravaine with Gaius, he had a knife to his throat. He claimed that he was trying to help, that he saw us leave and followed after us. He insisted we leave Merlin behind. I shouldn't have listened, but Gaius--"

"I know," Arthur said. But it seems that instead of a rescue, all they've done is exchange one captive for another. If Gaius is a source of tactical information about Camelot, Merlin is doubly so, for all that Arthur gripes and moans to him every day. Merlin would never willingly talk, but with magic involved Arthur fears he may not have a choice. And that's a small matter in comparison to what Morgana might do to him, knowing it will hurt Arthur. 

The only footprints leading out are Morgana's, dug deep into the sandy soil from Merlin's weight as she carried him out. The trail turns away at the first fork, and through twists and turns they end up in another large chamber.

"This is where I found them," Gwaine says. "She must have come to see if he'd finished the job."

Arthur nods, not trusting himself to speak. They follow Morgana's heavy footprints out to where they'd come in. It's apparent that Morgana rode off with Merlin in tow, but from there the trail goes cold.

They ride as quickly as they can, barely speaking the whole way back, the both of them weighed down by fear and revelations.

§

When they reach Camelot, Arthur immediately sends out patrols to scour the forest. Again he's struck by the familiarity of the act. He feels trapped in some kind of recurring nightmare, losing Merlin and finding him and losing him again. If Agravaine betrayed them in the Valley of the Fallen Kings, it's likely that the mercenaries who took Merlin were Morgana's men. But that only opens up more questions, and not all of them directed at Agravaine. If Merlin saw Morgana, why didn't he say anything? And more importantly, how on earth did he escape?

What if he didn't escape? What if-- No. Impossible. It was absolutely impossible that Merlin could betray him. But Arthur is having a hard time trusting his own instincts anymore. He hadn't thought it possible for his uncle to betray him, and he had believed, if only for a while, that Gaius had. 

Yet Merlin had behaved rather strangely when he'd first returned. And then he'd spent two whole days down at the tavern! Merlin has always been a bit odd, and so Arthur had thought little of it, assuming it was Merlin's way of dealing with what had happened. Thought what exactly _had_ happened... Arthur had just been so relieved to have him back, he hadn't cared to press Merlin for details beyond his easy shrug and 'I got away'. He had assumed that the injury hadn't been as bad as it looked, and if there had been anything wrong Gaius would have told him.

Which brings him back to Gaius again. But Gaius isn't the traitor, can't be the traitor. Even as a way to dispel suspicion, having himself kidnapped and tortured almost to death is too much. And Merlin hadn't been taken willingly either, both times. An almost manic elation runs through Arthur at the idea that _all three of them_ are traitors, that his whole court is made of traitors, and he has to slap it down hard. That way madness lies.

It's evening when he finally makes his way to the physician's tower. Gaius is sitting by the fire, a blanket over his legs and a book open on his lap, though he doesn't seem to be reading it. Arthur knocks on the open door and startles Gaius from his thoughts.

"Oh, sire! Do come in."

"Shouldn't someone be here with you?" Arthur asks, looking around.

"I sent Guinevere home for the night," Gaius says, closing the book and setting it aside. His hand trembles as he moves it, and he tucks it back under the blanket on his lap.

"Are you all right?" Arthur asks. He pulls over a chair and sits down, and rests a hand on Gaius' arm. Gaius still looks pale and out of sorts, and it can't help to have him worrying about Merlin on top of everything else.

Gaius nods. "Is there any word?"

"No," Arthur admits. "They'll keep looking. We will find him."

Gaius nods again, and he looks so worried that it gives everything away. Arthur knows at once how impossible it is that Gaius could betray him. There's nothing false about such fear.

"I made a mistake," Arthur apologizes.

Gaius blinks at him, and musters a sad smile. "I've looked after you since you were a nurseling, Arthur. You should've known I love you far too much ever to betray you."

Arthur ducks his head in shame. Only Gaius could make a king feel like a child again. There was a time when Arthur spent much of his time playing in Gaius' quarters, fascinated by the strange colors and smells and textures of the healer's art. It was the brief idyll of childhood before his life of duty began, and since then the two of them have grown apart. But Gaius still loves him. Arthur had failed him by forgetting that.

"What did Morgana want from you?" Arthur asks, gently. 

"Information," Gaius says. "About you, Camelot. To help bring down the kingdom."

The vagueness of his answer bothers Arthur, but Gaius is always that way. He chooses his words more carefully than anyone Arthur knows. "Did they get it?"

Gaius shakes his head. "Morgana got nothing from me."

"I'm grateful," Arthur says, and means it. It's clear that Gaius held out almost to the bitter end. "But there's a matter that still concerns me. When you were asked about the sorcerer who killed my father... you lied."

"I did, sire."

Arthur tries to hide his surprise. "You admit it?"

"I chose to protect him," Gaius explains. "I feared you would seek him out and execute him. That would've been a grave mistake. The sorcerer did not kill your father. Uther was dying. He tried everything in his power to save him."

Arthur looks at him doubtfully. He had seen it with his own eyes. Dragoon had used his magic, and moments later his father was dead. Arthur could see no other way to interpret what had happened.

"Sire," Gaius says, and there's a light in his eyes that makes Arthur pay attention. "Contained within this great kingdom is a rich variety of people with a range of different beliefs. I'm not the only one seeking to protect you. There are many more who believe in the world you are trying to create. One day you will learn, Arthur. One day you will understand just how much they've done for you."

Arthur stares at Gaius, trying to take this in. It's clear that Gaius is trying to tell him something important, something he can't fully speak of. Perhaps in a way, Agravaine is right. Gaius does consort with sorcerers like Dragoon. But could it be true that they are allies and not enemies?

Sorcerers helping Camelot? It seems incredibly farfetched. After decades of death and persecution, how can there be any good will left in those with magic? Arthur has only ever known the bitterness of sorcerers, their desire for revenge and for suffering to equal their own. The Druids are the exception to this, silent and hidden in the margins of the kingdom, fearful of the regular campaigns sent by his father. No matter how much they have suffered, the Druids have never struck back. Arthur quietly ended such campaigns once he was crowned.

But Dragoon is no Druid. And when Arthur had asked him for help, all he wanted in return was to live in peace. To be accepted rather than hunted. Why would anyone petition for such noble goals only to destroy them by killing a man who was already dying?

"I hope you're right," Arthur says at last. "It's been a long day. Get some rest. The moment I have any news about Merlin, I'll send word."

"Thank you, sire," Gaius says, and Arthur bids him goodnight.

§

Arthur gets little rest himself. His mind runs in circles all night, thinking of Agravaine and Gaius, of his father and Dragoon, and most of all of Merlin. He keeps thinking of things he wants to say to Merlin and opens his mouth to call for him. And stops, because Merlin isn't there.

Every time he finally starts to drift off, he thinks of Merlin and starts awake again. He is haunted by his absence, by the ghost of him: by his fond impatience when Arthur is lazy in the mornings; by the deft touch of his hands as he dresses Arthur for training; by the profile of his shy smile, face half-turned, his dark lashes smudged against his cheek.

His sleep is plagued by dreams of betrayal, of Morgana and Agravaine and his father attacking him with knives, and Merlin throwing himself in front of Arthur as a shield. He dreams of Merlin dying in his arms, bleeding out and out, his last words a whisper on his lips. Arthur can't hear them, and he leans closer and closer, begging Merlin to hold on a little longer, to say it one more time so Arthur can hear. That he'll hear it this time, he promises, _please_.

He wakes at the cusp of dawn, cold from having kicked off his blankets in the night. He dresses quickly and hurries out, determined that today they will find Merlin, today they will bring him home.

By the end of the day there is still no word, and Arthur feels weary and weighted down. He rubs his eyes and pushes aside the papers before him. The duties of a king are endless, and moreso without Merlin there to make arrangements and write speeches and generally do far more work than Arthur likes to admit. How does he even have the time? Merlin seems to do the work of three men: a manservant, an apprentice, and a king.

"I'm afraid it might be time to give up," Agravaine says. He speaks as if it wounds him to even suggest such a thing, but Arthur can see the falseness of it easily now. Agravaine barely knows Merlin, and in trying to cover his guilt he goes too far. It would be more believable if he was indifferent.

When Arthur says nothing, Agravaine presses on. "I know how important he is to you, but the boy is certainly dead by now. It's a waste of resources--"

Arthur holds up his hand, silencing him. "They'll look until he is found. I will hear no more about it."

"Very well," Agravaine says, his displeasure evident.

Arthur folds his hands and considers the man before him. His uncle. When he'd doubted Agravaine before, his uncle had said that he would never betray him because Arthur was all that was left of Ygraine. Yet if there is any truth to that, it's clear that blood alone is not enough for loyalty. Why ally himself with Morgana, of all people? It baffles Arthur and he knows he needs something more than doubt. He needs proof that Agravaine is the traitor.

There's no time like the present. It's just the two of them in the room. "Uncle," Arthur says, adopting a conciliatory tone. "I would like to ask your advice on something."

Agravaine leans forward. "Of course. I will help however I can."

"You are aware of the many magical objects that my father amassed over the years." Agravaine nods. Arthur leans closer, lowers his voice. "My father sought only to keep them from the hands of sorcerers. But there are certain to be weapons within that may be used without any magic. It has occurred to me that they may be of use against Morgana."

"That is a very risky gambit, Arthur," Agravaine warns, but there's a keen interest in his eyes. 

"But a necessary one," Arthur says. "Camelot has no defense against magic. Tomorrow I intend to take my most trusted knights down to the vaults, and we will begin an inventory to see what may be of use to us."

"If you think it best," Agravaine says, warily. "Your father always said that it only took one spell for magic to begin its corruption."

"Then I will find things that do not require spells. I will not see Morgana take the city again." Arthur sneers as he says her name, and sees the resulting anger that Agravaine fails to hide.

There is a knock on the door, and Guinevere arrives with a simple dinner. "As you requested, sire," she says, bowing her head politely as she serves them. She looks askance at Agravaine, and Arthur knows her well enough to see that she does not like his uncle. Guinevere has always been a good judge of character.

They eat together, and Arthur lets his exhaustion show more and more. He drinks an extra cup of wine, and though it's watered down enough not to intoxicate him, he affects a woozy air. He yawns widely several times until Agravaine finally takes the bait.

"You must rest, sire," Agravaine says, with an obsequious smile. "You have not slept well for days."

"I know," Arthur admits, rubbing at his face. "I've had Gaius give me one of his sleeping draughts. If that doesn't work, nothing will."

"A good night's rest will make everything better," Agravaine assures him.

"Mm." Arthur stands and stretches, stiff from so much sitting. He'd rather ride and fight than sit in a chair all day long. When he gets Merlin back, he'll have Merlin find a better way to manage his schedule. _When_ , he thinks, rather fiercely.

He takes his leave and heads back towards his chambers, but as soon as he's safely away from Agravaine, he takes a sharp turn. He finds his knights slouched together over their own dinners and nursing their ales. They would have been out searching all day, and they look dispirited.

As soon as they see him, they all straighten up, instantly alert.

"Is there news?" asks Leon.

Arthur presses a finger to his lips and closes the door behind him. "I need your help," he says, and they lean in to listen.

§

Pretending to sleep is, at least, easier than actually sleeping. Arthur lies quite still, keeping his breathing slow and even, his mind focused on his plan. It's the most relaxed he's been all week.

The door cracks open, silent on oiled hinges, and dim light spills into the room from the hall. Arthur keeps his eyes closed, listens to the rustle of cloth and Agravaine's breathing as the man creeps inside. Arthur stirs in his false sleep, and Agravaine pauses and waits for him to settle.

Arthur hears the soft tinkle of metal as Agravaine finds the key to the vaults. He waits as Agravaine creeps out again, and then slips on a shirt and follows after him. He trails as Agravaine makes his way down to the vaults, neatly avoiding a pair of guards on patrol. Arthur does the same.

Arthur wants there to be no doubt. He wants Agravaine completely incriminated. He waits as Agravaine opens the vault and steps inside, waits as he rustles around in the darkness for whatever he thinks will help Morgana to victory. And then Arthur steps inside and blocks the exit.

"Uncle," Arthur says, loudly.

Agravaine nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns to Arthur, and his expression flickers between loathing and appeasing, like he can't decide if he can still talk his way out of this. And then the knights step out of the shadows of the vault, swords drawn, and loathing wins.

"You're under arrest for treason to the crown," Arthur says, calmly.

Agravaine glares at them all in disgust. "You can't stop her," he growls.

"That is no longer your concern," Arthur tells him. "The only thing I want from you now is an answer. Why? Why did you betray me?"

Agravaine laughs, and it's an ugly sound. "Why would a DuBois want revenge against a Pendragon? Do you know what your father did to my family? He killed them. My sister, my brother, slaughtered at his hand."

" _Your_ family?" Arthur asks, ignoring the accusation for now. "What am I to you?"

"You are Uther's son," Agravaine spits. "That's all you are."

Arthur shakes his head. "So you deny me only to ally yourself with Uther's _daughter_?"

Agravaine blanches, but whatever he feels he pushes down behind a smile. "She is no more Uther's daughter than you are Igraine's son. You have both rejected your blood."

"How have I rejected you?" Arthur shouts, furious now. "I welcomed you with open arms. I trusted you!"

"You were given the choice between your mother and Uther. And you chose Uther."

"What are you talking about?"

Agravaine laughs. "Have you denied her so entirely? Do you not even remember the gift Morgause gave you?"

"Morgause?" Arthur gapes. "What does that... She was lying. It was all a trick to..." What had Merlin said? "To turn me against my father. To destroy the kingdom."

"You delude yourself. I gave up the chance to see my beloved sister one last time in the hopes that it was not too late for you. That you had not been entirely corrupted by Uther's lies. But my sacrifice was in vain, and so you stole her from me a second time."

Arthur gapes at him, stunned.

"You are your father's son," Agravaine declares with finality. "You are corrupted by his hatred. Morgana will bring magic back to Camelot, and no one will ever remember your name."

It's all too much to bear. Arthur wants nothing more than to cut Agravaine down, to wipe the smug smile from his face once and for all. But he can't.

"Throw him in the cells," he orders hoarsely, and walks away.

§

When Merlin wakes, everything hurts. He's slung over a horse and each trot brings a fresh jolt of pain. He's been bound tightly all over, and sees his tied wrists swaying before him over the moving ground.

They're travelling. That can't be good.

He should never have held back. He should have stopped Morgana with any means available to him. He could have broken the restraining spell if he'd only had more time. He reaches for his magic but it feels far away, obscured by the pain. She's done something to him.

He needs help and he needs it _now_. She hasn't bothered to gag him, trusting that whatever she's done to him is enough to hold back his magic, both spoke and silent. But he has one more trick up his sleeve.

" _O drakon_ ," he rasps, the deep undertones of dragonspeak strengthening his voice. " _E male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!_ "

"What? Impossible!" Morgana gasps, and pulls them to a stop so sudden it nearly throws him from the horse. Then she laughs. "You are full of surprises, _Dragonlord_. But call all you like. There are no more dragons."

Merlin laughs weakly. "That's what you think. Just wait. Kilgharrah never liked you," he taunts, and only regrets it a little when she sends another round of searing pain through his nerves.

"I have plans for you, Emrys," she warns him. "And nothing, not even your pet dragon, is going to stop me."

Her hand presses against him and he feels her pushing him down again, back into the darkness. He struggles to stay awake but it's no use. He hopes Kilgharrah will arrive quickly, will find them in time. He hears her chanting, louder and louder, and then hears nothing at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur could do with one of Gaius' sleeping draughts about now.

He had thought that knowing for certain would be a relief. That capturing the traitor, even though it is his uncle, would let him sleep easily at last. He had not expected the exposing of one secret to reveal so many others. He has barely slept for a third night in a row, and once again the dawn has crept upon him.

_He is born of magic._

He doesn't even know where to begin with the information. If his father was still alive, Arthur could have confronted him properly, demanded answers, details, with a cooler head than he had when he had seen his mother.

_He has seen his mother._

All his life he has yearned for her, for some knowledge of her. Even one memory would have been enough. When Morgause had shown her to him, it had been one morsel of food for a starving man, and he had been desperate for more. To be convinced that it was all false, all an illusion, had devastated him. But Agravaine had been honest in his rage, and now one memory is exactly what he has. She was beautiful, and Arthur can accept now that he sees more of himself in her than he ever had in his father.

His father had lied to him. His father had betrayed his mother, had killed her by forcing magic upon her. Had traded her life for a son. 

His father had turned his guilt outwards and condemned hundreds, thousands to death. The hypocrisy is no less astounding for being the second time that Arthur has confronted it. He feels sick for every time he was complicit in his father's atrocities, in his murders. For that is what they were. Every sorcerer burnt in the courtyard, every witch hanged, every village and druid camp raided. His father's rage was truly beyond measure, to have demanded so much suffering and yet never have been sated.

And that rage was not contained within his father's body. It spread outwards from him, infecting everyone around him, infecting the whole kingdom. He can see it in Morgana, crowning herself Queen of Camelot, and in the crowds that gathered around every pyre. Agravaine is right about Uther's hate, that it is corrupting, but he is blind to how it has corrupted him as well.

Arthur's entire life has been a lie, and he will have no more of lies. He cannot let it stand. He cannot let his kingdom be strangled by his father's hate before it has a chance to flourish. He has to cut it out, remove the cancer.

He hears a scratching sound from outside his window, and drags himself out of bed. He has to get some proper sleep, he can't go on much longer like this. But his head is full of betrayal and anger and worry and Merlin is still lost, and he doesn't like how Gaius' draughts leave him feeling fuzzy and slow in the morning. Not that exhaustion is doing him any favors.

He sees the curtains twitch, and he grabs his sword, the possibility of danger clearing his senses. He creeps silently forward as whatever has crawled through his window clatters on the stone sill. It makes odd chirping sound, nothing like any bird Arthur knows. He raises his sword, preparing to strike, and yanks back the curtain.

He freezes, shocked. It's a _dragon_. It stares back at him with big blue eyes and for a long moment neither of them so much as twitch. It's nothing like the huge, terrifying beast that attacked Camelot. It's perched up on its hind legs, hardly bigger than a cat, its head cocked at him with an innocent expression.

It's a baby, he realizes. A baby dragon. What on earth is a _baby dragon_ doing in Camelot?

It looks up at him with what can only be described as a hopeful expression, and it _squeaks_. Arthur lowers his sword, and it squeaks again. He can't kill it. He can't. Not after everything he's learned. Not when it's looking at him like it trusts him, for some unfathomable reason.

He reaches out slowly, and the dragon sniffs his fingers, rubs its cheek against them. He pets its head and finds that its tiny scales are dry and smooth, like they've been polished. There are four stubby horns on its head and more down its spine and tail, but they're hardly dangerous looking. For a dragon, it's rather... cute.

"Hello," Arthur tells it, a smile pulling at his cheeks. "What are you doing here?"

The dragon nudges at his arm and chirps at him, like it understands him and is trying to answer. It nudges his arm again and again, and looks at him soulfully.

"Are you here for me?" Arthur asks, feeling silly talking to a dragon, especially one that can't talk. Can dragons talk? He doesn't remember the Great Dragon saying anything, but it may have been too busy roaring and burning everything to the ground.

"If you're here for me, go like this," Arthur says, and nods his head in an exaggerated motion. The dragon copies him, and Arthur laughs, feeling ridiculous. He strokes along its side, and is rewarded with a sort of rumbling purr, much deeper than a cat's but equally soothing.

There's a knock on the door, and Arthur starts. It must be George.

"Hold on," Arthur calls, and draws the curtain over the dragon. Then realizes that one of the first things George will do is pull back all the curtains, and picks up the dragon and puts it in his wardrobe. "Be quiet and stay put," he tells it, and it cocks its head at him. He closes the wardrobe and dives back into bed so it looks like he's only just woken up. "Enter."

George walks in with his usual somber smile and a tray full of fresh fruit, cheese, and bread still steaming from the oven. Arthur wonders what dragons eat. Besides people and large livestock.

"Good morning, sire," George says.

"Chicken," Arthur blurts. "I mean, I want chicken for breakfast."

"Oh," says George, surprised. He turns to obey.

"Wait," Arthur says. "Leave that on the table. I, uh, didn't eat much last night."

"Would you like anything else, sire? Perhaps a bath?"

"Just the chicken," Arthur says, and it takes everything he has not to look towards the wardrobe. He doesn't need George opening it up because he thinks Arthur wants him to dress him.

George nods and obeys, and the moment he's out of the room Arthur hurries back to the wardrobe. He opens it up to find that the dragon is chewing on one of his shoes. Arthur scowls at it, and it drops the shoe and lowers its head and looks sorry.

"This is madness," Arthur mutters, taking the dragon up into his arms. It snuggles happily there and purrs loudly. "If I keep you, you are not allowed to eat anyone or burn down the castle. Is that understood?"

The dragon nods its head up and down, and _smiles_ at him. Arthur is reminded oddly of Merlin, and thinks that it's because keeping Merlin around is not dissimilar to keeping a baby dragon. Except that Merlin is possibly even more troublesome.

"He's going to love you," Arthur murmurs.

Merlin can be funny about magic. Sometimes he seems outright terrified of it, fretting over Arthur and telling him not to head into danger. Other times he'll be leading the way, eager to plunge straight for it. A few times he's even argued on behalf of it, like when Arthur had killed the unicorn. Merlin had really loved that unicorn. That probably means he's going to enjoy having a baby dragon around. Hopefully this one won't get too big, because if it's going to eat people Arthur will have to kill it, and he doesn't want to do that.

"Maybe I can train you," Arthur says, looking for a better hiding place. He doesn't want it ruining all of his shoes. "You don't have to eat people if you like chicken. You can have all the tasty chicken you want."

The dragon chirps eagerly. Its stomach rumbles. It opens its mouth and makes a biting motion, like a baby bird asking for food. It has matching rows of sharp little teeth.

A _dragon_. A magical creature that shouldn't even exist flew right into his room, and now he's actually considering _training_ it. Madness. He'd killed the last dragon himself, and even if the memory of it is a bit hazy, the beast had certainly not returned after its mortal wounding. Perhaps it's the same dragon, but it's undergone some kind of metamorphosis in order to survive? 

Then there was the egg. Merlin had said that both intruder and egg had perished in the tomb's collapse. Certainly if they had been inside, neither could have survived. But perhaps Merlin was wrong. The intruder may have escaped with his treasure and hatched it. If only that intruder hadn't drugged their food, Arthur could have seen for himself, ensured the egg's destruction. Yet while he knows very little about dragons, the timing makes more sense for how young the little creature is. Surely after two years, the Great Dragon would have grown much larger than this.

Arthur holds the dragon up before him and looks into its eyes. "Where did you come from?" he asks it. It burbles and chirps at him and makes hungry motions again. It flaps its wings and squirms to escape his grasp.

"Oh no you don't," Arthur says, sternly. "George will be back any minute. If you don't behave, you'll have to catch your food yourself. I bet even a dragon wouldn't like to eat rat." He makes a face, and the dragon seems to actually _giggle_ , with a sort of weirdly resonant sound.

There's a knock on the door, and Arthur puts the dragon down so that it's hidden from the door by his bed. "Stay," he tells it, and goes to the door and opens it. "Thanks," he says, taking the tray from George's surprised hands, and closes the door again.

Almost the moment the door is closed, there's a fluttering sound, and when Arthur turns around the dragon is hovering before him, eyes fixed on the steaming food. Arthur pulls the tray away from it, then takes a leg and holds it out. The dragon perches on his arm and attacks the chicken ferociously, its tail wrapping around Arthur's bicep to help its balance. It strips the leg down to the bone, licks its lips, and then gnaws on the bone.

"You are definitely going to be trouble," Arthur says, trying very hard not to smile and failing.

§

Arthur spends as long as he can in his room with the dragon, glad that he woke so early that he has time before his duties begin their demands of him. He discovers that it has a hearty appetite, that it likes to play catch with the bone from the chicken leg, and that like any child it needs to nap. Arthur sits on his bed next to the curled up lump of dragon, stroking its smooth scales and watching the rapid rise and fall of its breathing.

He's starting to understand why Merlin loved that unicorn so much. There's something humbling about being trusted by such a creature, and at the same time he feels oddly like he's been given a gift. Like he's been entrusted with its care by some mysterious benefactor. Does it know that Arthur killed its only kin?

He can't leave it on its own in his room. Who knows what state he'll find it in when he comes back? What if George decides to pop in for some spontaneous tidying? No, Arthur needs someone he can trust implicitly, someone who will have the patience and courage to deal with an unruly baby dragon without screaming or trying to kill it.

Arthur tiptoes to his door and slips outside and flags a passing servant. He gives his order and then slips back inside to sit with the dragon so it doesn't wake up alone. A few minutes later, there's a soft knock on the door, and Arthur lets Guinevere inside.

"You asked--" she starts, but Arthur hushes her. She furrows her brow at him.

"I need your help with something," he says, keeping his voice low. "Don't make any loud noises, I don't want to wake it."

"It?" Guinevere mouths, and then her eyes widen as she sees the dragon sleeping on the bed. She covers her mouth with her hands and looks back and forth between Arthur and the dragon.

"It just showed up," he whispers. "I think it... likes me?" He shakes his head, admitting his own bafflement.

"May I?" she asks, reaching towards it.

Arthur nods, and Guinevere quietly approaches the bed. She stares at the sleeping dragon with awe and amazement. As if sensing the change in the room, the little dragon stirs, lifting its head with sleepy eyes. It blinks slowly at Guinevere and yawns widely.

Guinevere gives a little gasp, and reaches out a tentative hand to touch the dragon. It sniffs her questioningly and seems to consider her, and then presents its head for her to pet. She obliges, and slowly breaks out into a huge grin. Arthur can't remember the last time he saw her so happy. It must have been years ago, before she lost Lancelot and Morgana and her father. Before Arthur had told her that they couldn't be together.

It had been Agravaine who convinced him of that, after convincing him that it was a good idea to kill Caerleon. It had nearly cost Arthur his life to repair relations with Annis. But he hasn't repaired things with Guinevere, not the way he knows he should. Because Agravaine had been right? That Arthur must rule with his head and not his heart? That he must deny himself if his chosen is not deemed suitably appropriate? Had he not had heated arguments with his father about marrying for love rather than duty?

He thinks of his mother's ring, the one he had intended to one day give to her. Merlin is the one always pushing them together as if they're somehow meant to be, just as Merlin has always been so certain that Arthur will be a great king. Arthur has never been certain of either. He wants to believe he will be a great king. He wants to believe he loves Guinevere. And with both, it's easy to let himself believe that if he acts a thing enough, it will make it true.

He'd told her wanted to run away to become a farmer. He could work the land and live only for himself, with Merlin by his side. Guinevere would fit easily into such a life, yet he's never pictured her there in such daydreams.

Guinevere didn't chose him first. She chose Lancelot, and even now she still grieves for him. She would make a great queen, a people's queen like none other. But there are evenings where he turns and turns the band on his finger as if trying to see the future in it, and he can't. He can't.

"Have you named it?" Guinevere asks, drawing Arthur from his thoughts.

Arthur shakes his head. "Didn't feel right," he says, unable to explain why. For some reason he thinks it already has a name, though if it does it can hardly tell him. Perhaps he's simply not willing to name it until he's certain he won't have to kill it. Nothing about this is exactly rife with precedent.

The dragon seems to have taken to Guinevere well enough, and she is willing to watch over it, so Arthur takes his leave, promising the dragon that he will visit through the day whenever he can get away. He thanks Guinevere profusely, which makes her blush.

As he closes the door behind him, he sees the little dragon craning its neck to watch him go.

§

The patrols report back with no sign of Merlin but they do find his horse, which had been slowly ambling back towards Camelot, unharmed and grazing contentedly. Arthur does his best to focus on the thought of how happy Merlin will be to have her back, how Merlin has always spoiled the mare with treats. If Merlin stands near her, she ends up nosing at him until he laughs and offers her an apple or carrot or a piece of honeycomb. But in return she is patient and kind with him, never throwing him, smoothing her trot when he is injured.

Merlin can't be dead. He can't. Arthur won't allow it. But it's been four days since Morgana took him, and even Gwaine is starting to lose hope. For all of Merlin's stubbornness and hidden strength, could he survive four days of torture? And even if they get him back, Arthur has known hardened soldiers who were tortured and were never the same again. They might find Merlin and still lose him.

Late in the day, reports come in of unrest along the northern border, and Arthur has no choice but to divert most of the patrols. It's clear that they're not going to find Merlin anywhere near Kemeray, and they've scoured the Valley of the Fallen Kings to no avail. He would go out himself in a heartbeat if he only knew where to look.

He questions Agravaine, but the man is incredibly tight-lipped, loyal to a fault to Morgana. He simply sits in his cell, calm as can be. It doesn't matter what Arthur does to him, he says. Morgana will come for him, will strike Arthur down and take her rightful crown. 

Arthur feels sick when he leaves the dungeons, revolted that he could harbor so deep a traitor. That he had prized Agravaine's opinion over those who are truly loyal to him, who have always been loyal. That in doing so, he had caused all of this to happen. What kind of king is he, to be so easily fooled? To throw away the support of those who have pledged their lives to him? When he was still a prince, Merlin had often looked at Arthur as if he was already king. Yet now...

What does Merlin think of him now that he is broken and lost? When the last thing Arthur said to him was that he would choose Agravaine over Merlin and Gaius, that Gaius was condemned and there was no more to be said? Merlin had left with Gwaine believing that Arthur had no faith in him. Arthur may never be able to apologize for that, and he thinks that's what hurts his heart the most. That Merlin might die and never know. That it's too late.

Please let it not be too late.

Arthur was raised without religion (though some might say his naive worship of his father was not dissimilar to one), but he hopes that there is an old god somewhere that might hear him. Might grant one last boon to a Pendragon despite all the blood on his hands. That whatever gods watch over fools and innocents will keep Merlin safe and bring him home.

§

Though the baby dragon seems happy enough when Arthur relieves Guinevere for the night, Arthur's mood proves to be contagious. Arthur lies in bed, exhausted but once again unable to rest, and the dragon lies sprawled over his chest, looking mournful, its wings drooped sadly. Arthur pets it absently, seeing Merlin in his absence. Arthur doesn't want to pick up the dirty socks that Merlin left on his dresser, doesn't want anyone to clean the splotch on the floor where Merlin spilled his wine. He hasn't let George clean his room since Merlin was taken because it would feel like erasing Merlin himself.

"What are we going to do?" Arthur asks the dragon, asks himself. "I can't... I have to do something. I can't leave him out there. Merlin..."

Arthur trails off, surprised by the dragon's sudden change of mood. It perks its head and wings up, stares at him.

"What is it?" Arthur asks, frowning. He looks around the room, but nothing has changed. There's no new sounds, no new smells to cause the change. "Was it something I said?"

The dragon chirps at him, then makes a strange noise, sort of like a growl.

Arthur repeats what he said, and again the dragon reacts, growling again. It sounds almost like... "Merlin?" Arthur says, and the dragon says "Mmmrrlll."

" _Mer_ lin," Arthur corrects. "Mer. Lin."

"Mmrrrllinn," it says.

Arthur smiles, bemused. " _Mer_. _Mer_ lin."

"Merlin!" it says. "Merlin!"

"Merlin!" Arthur echoes back, and laughs. "You can talk! Say Arthur. Ar-thur."

"Merlin!" it says.

"No, _Arthur_. Come on. _Arrr-thur_."

" _Mer_ lin," the dragon says, excited now. It flaps into the air and over to the window, then back again, over and back. " _Mer_ lin!"

"Whoa, whoa," Arthur says, chasing after it. "Calm down. Why are you upset? You don't even know who he is."

The dragon lands on the windowsill and presses against the glass, keening mournfully. "Merlin," it cries, like its heart is broken. Arthur knows the feeling.

"I must be rubbing off on you," Arthur says, picking it up and holding it against his chest. It struggles a bit and then settles, pouting up at him in a way that dragons absolutely should not be able to do. "What will Merlin say when he finds out I've turned you into a little Arthur? I bet he'll say that one Arthur is already too much trouble." He can't help but smile at the thought, and the dragon responds with a little smile of its own.

"Now I have two prats to clean up after," Arthur says, mimicking Merlin's complaining to the delight of the dragon. "I can't polish your armor, write your speeches, hand-feed your dragon, _and_ clean Gaius' leech tank!" The dragon laughs and Arthur laughs with it, picturing Merlin's outrage complete with smudges on his face and hay in his hair because no matter how many years Merlin has been Arthur's manservant, he still manages to make himself filthy all the time. It's like a gift, a special talent for filthiness. Arthur used to order him to muck out the stables just so he could watch, because Merlin would inevitably end up with a forkful of manure and hay dumped over his own head or he would slip and land on his arse and he would stomp off fuming and in total disarray.

"You'll love him," Arthur tells the dragon. "You really will."

The dragon starts to purr, and Arthur closes his eyes, and before his worries can find him again he's drifting off, thinking of Merlin and clean hay and leaning down, down.

§

He wakes from a long, deep sleep to the fragments of a strange dream, trailing from him like wisps. He remembers being lost in a white mist, and feeling as if someone was trying to reach him from very far away. But when he reached back, something was blocking him.

 _Merlin_ , he thinks, and doesn't know why. 

When he opens his eyes, the dragon is wide-awake and staring intently at him. Arthur blinks at it.

"Merlin," it says, meaningfully.

"No, Arthur," Arthur reminds it. 

The dragon huffs at him, inexplicably annoyed. As if it's Arthur's fault that his name isn't Merlin. Why has the dragon fixated on that word anyway? There must be something else it will say.

"Guinevere," Arthur says, seeing if it will copy him. The dragon just glares at him, so he starts throwing out whatever comes to mind. "Breakfast. George. Gaius. Apples. Chicken. Wine. Um, Knights. Gwaine. Leon. Percival. Elyan. Desk. Chair. Morgana. Swo--"

The dragon's eyes widen. "Mrrgna!" it interrupts, struggling with the word.

Arthur pushes himself up, and the dragon slides down onto his lap. "Morgana," he says again.

"Mrrgana! Merlin! Morgana!" cries the dragon, excited now.

"How?" Arthur says, running his hands through his hair. Hope sparks in his chest. "Do you know Morgana?" The dragon nods. "Do you know Merlin?" The dragon nods again. Arthur is baffled but can barely contain himself as he asks, "Do you know where they are?"

The dragon deflates and looks sad again.

"You don't," Arthur realizes, but still. The little creature came to him because of Morgana, or because of Merlin, or both. It makes _some_ sense that Morgana and dragons would go together, but Merlin? What could Merlin possibly have to do with dragons?

But then, Merlin had been rather keen when they'd been chasing down that intruder. He'd kept insisting they go on, even when there had been no sign of where the intruder was going. Arthur had taken it as an example of Merlin's occasional thickheaded bravery, but could there have been more to it than that? Had he actually wanted the dragon egg for _himself?_ What had really happened when he and his knights had been drugged? _Had Merlin drugged them?_

Arthur's mind races with scenarios, each even stranger than the last. Arthur had declared his intent to destroy the dragon egg, and Merlin had... decided to save it? How _had_ the intruder broken into the vault without damaging the locks? It could have been magic, or he could have used the key. The key that never leaves Arthur's side, which is either on his belt or on the hook by his bed.

Merlin hadn't been checking for woodworm. And the insane incident with the councilors. _Merlin had been trying to steal the key. Merlin had stolen the key._

Arthur stares at the dragon. The dragon stares back. Arthur swallows.

"Did Merlin steal you?" Arthur asks, carefully, but the dragon just blinks at him. It's like a very small child, only understanding simple things, direct questions. Maybe it doesn't understand stealing. He has to find the right way to ask.

"Do you remember coming out of your egg?" Arthur tries, thinking that that might be as early as the dragon could remember. It thinks for a bit, as if trying to understand what Arthur is asking, and then nods.

"Do you remember if anyone was with you?"

The dragon nods, more certain this time. "Merlin," it says, happily. 

Arthur can barely breathe. "Was Morgana there?"

The dragon looks baffled. Arthur sighs in relief. "That's a no, then. Was someone else there?"

The dragon nods and flaps its wings repeatedly, as if signalling something. Arthur doesn't know what that means, and decides not to worry about it for now. His fear was that Merlin was helping Morgana, and that doesn't appear to be the case. He has to forcibly remind himself that Merlin had not been taken willingly, that he had run and been struck down and captured. 

But for Merlin to go behind his back. To partner with someone in order to get his hands on a dragon egg. It wasn't exactly betrayal but it was uncomfortably close to it. Merlin had lied to him, and not about something small. Arthur has trusted him as blindly as he had trusted Agravaine. What else has he done right under Arthur's nose?

§

Arthur finds Gwaine in the stables with Percival, the two of them preparing to ride out for another search of the woods.

"You can't stop me from going," Gwaine says, before Arthur can even get a word out. "I'm not giving up on Merlin even if you are."

Arthur holds up his hands. "First of all, I'm not giving up on Merlin." When Gwaine opens his mouth to argue, Arthur forcefully continues. " _Second_ , I didn't come here to stop you."

"Oh," Gwaine says, rocking back on his heels. He looks almost disappointed to not have the opportunity to yell at Arthur, and Arthur sympathizes because he would love have someone to blame and yell at besides himself. He knows Gwaine feels just as guilty as he does.

"Is something wrong?" Percival asks, joining them.

"No. Maybe," Arthur says. "I don't know."

"Well, that clears things up," Gwaine says, tartly.

Arthur gives him a look. 

"That clears things up, _sire_ ," Gwaine says, with an exaggerated bow.

"I need to ask you something," Arthur says, unimpressed. He looks around, but aside from the horses they're alone. "It concerns Merlin."

The mention of Merlin sobers Gwaine up. "Ask." Percival nods in agreement.

Arthur considers how best to approach this. "After we found Merlin in the woods, did he spend a lot of time in the tavern with you?"

They both shake their heads. "I barely saw him," says Percival.

"He was fine after a few days, but at first he was acting kinda off," Gwaine says, thinking back. "He said I had filthy fingers."

"You do have filthy fingers," Percival points out.

"Yeah," Gwaine admits, "but Merlin wouldn't tell me that. Merlin is _polite_ , unlike the rest of you coarse animals."

"And you didn't see him drinking anywhere?" Arthur presses. "Perhaps at a different tavern?"

Gwaine laughs. "I've been trying to drag Merlin down to the Rising Sun for ages. The man needs to relax. I've never known anyone so painfully sober."

"What's this about?" Percival asks, concerned.

"I wish I knew," Arthur sighs, rubbing his chin. He wants to ask if he can trust them, but he knows how stupid it will sound. These men swore themselves to him in his darkest hour, pledge their lives to his service. They're his men, and if there is anyone left in Camelot he can trust, it's them.

"You must speak of this to no one," he warns, and they nod. "Absolutely no one."

"Blood oath, yeah yeah. Get on with it," Gwaine prods.

Percival snorts.

"Merlin stole the dragon egg," Arthur says, bluntly, and both his knights gape in shock.

"What?!" Gwaine says, outraged. "Why didn't he tell me? He knew I've had a craving for omelettes."

"This is serious," Arthur chides.

"So what if he saved that musty old egg?" Gwaine says, one hand on his hip.

"Because the idiot somehow managed to hatch it, and now I have a bloody dragon in my chambers," Arthur hisses.

"He what?" Percival laughs, disbelieving.

"He's been off doing... who knows what," Arthur says, through gritted teeth. "Disappearing for days at a time. Gaius has been covering for him and telling me Merlin has been in the tavern."

"That's ridiculous," Gwaine says, worry creeping in around his smile. "I don't even know where to start with how ridiculous that is."

Percival frowns, and looks around them nervously. "This doesn't have anything to do with Agravaine, does it?"

"Not a chance," Gwaine insists, before Arthur can reply. "There is no way Merlin would side with that bastard. You didn't see how upset he was when Gaius disappeared, when no one believed him. He was--"

"I saw," Arthur interrupts. "I know he wasn't... I know. But something's going on. They've been lying to my face. Keeping secrets..." He shakes his head. Everyone is lying to him, keeping secrets from him. The people he trusts the most, Merlin, Gaius, Agravaine. They've all lied to him.

"Merlin would never betray you," Percival says, with utter belief.

"Never," Gwaine agrees. "He'd cut out his own heart first."

Arthur nods, but he feels numb inside. The reality of it is only now sinking in. He never realized how utterly he's come to rely on Merlin, how essential he is to Arthur's world view. Merlin is the one person he can always rely on, always turn to, no matter what. He's been by Arthur's side through good and bad and worst. Arthur tells him everything, has opened up his heart and poured the secrets from it into Merlin's hands, knowing they would be safe there. And now this, this crack in his foundation. How can he believe anything anymore?

Gwaine puts a steadying hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Look, Arthur," he says, struggling for the right thing to say. "We all have our secrets. Everyone does, even Merlin. That doesn't change anything."

"Of course it does," Arthur says, hoarsely. "How can it not? How can I even trust _you?_ "

"You want to know my secret?" Gwaine challenges.

"What?" Arthur stares.

"Everyone has one," Gwaine says. "My secret is that I'm one of you. A fuckin' blue blood. I don't tell anyone because all nobles are a fuckin' waste of space, your royal highness excepted. I lied because I wanted to be judged for who I am, not because my father got killed being a knight for stupid Caerleon. Do you think that makes me a traitor? Do you think it changes who I am?"

Arthur shakes his head.

"There you go, then," Gwaine says, straightening up and giving Arthur an only slightly playful shove. "Problem fuckin' solved. And don't you dare think Merlin is any different. He thinks the sun shines right out of your royal arse. The idiot's probably going to get himself killed because Morgana will have to tear him apart to get him to tell her anything that might even _possibly_ hurt you. If he wanted to save a bloody dragon, it's probably because he's such a fuckin' softie, so stop moping and get your head on straight."

Arthur stares at him, completely speechless.

"Get your head on straight, _sire_ ," Gwaine finishes, and coughs into his hand.

Percival shrugs. "I knew about the noble thing," he admits.

"Stop helping," Gwaine says, elbowing him. Percival elbows him back.

"You may possibly have a point," Arthur admits, grudgingly. 

"Of course I do," Gwaine says, and tosses his hair back. "You don't keep me around just for my looks and my amazing displays of swordsmanship."

"I'm starting to wonder why we keep you around at all," Arthur scowls, but he doesn't mean it and Gwaine knows it.

"If Merlin has a secret, it must be something important," Percival offers. "Maybe you should talk to Gaius."

"Yeah," Gwaine agrees. "Before it's too late."

 _If it isn't already,_ Arthur thinks, but doesn't dare say it aloud. He doesn't dare.

§

"You wished to see me, sire?" Gaius asks, as Arthur opens the door to his chambers. "I'm afraid I'm not quite back to my regular duties, but if you're feeling unwell..."

"It's about Merlin," Arthur says, cutting to the chase. Gaius gives him a steady look, and closes the door behind him.

"Has there been news?" Gaius asks. He looks concerned but also wary. Arthur thinks of their conversation earlier, when Gaius had been trying to tell him things without telling him, and Arthur wishes that Gaius was as straightforward a person as Gwaine.

"Not exactly," Arthur says. "But something has turned up. Guinevere?"

Guinevere walks into view with the dragon curled up in her arms, and Gaius actually _staggers_.

"Sit down, sit down," Arthur says, half-carrying him to a chair. Gaius clasps a hand to his chest, and he's pale as a sheet. He stares at the dragon like he can't look away, like it's something precious to him. Which it probably is, if Gaius was at all involved with helping Merlin steal the egg.

"I'm sorry, sire," Gaius says, weakly. "I was not prepared."

Guinevere drops the dragon into Arthur's arms and goes to Gaius to fuss over him. Roused, the dragon crawls up onto Arthur's shoulders and perches its front paws on Arthur's head, and gives its sad, familiar call of "Merlin."

"Oh dear," Gaius says, pressing his hand over his mouth.

"Merlin! Merlin!" says the dragon, and it hops down from Arthur onto the table next to Gaius. It sniffs Gaius and rubs against him, and purrs.

"You must share the same scents," Guinevere says, smiling. "All those herbs and potions."

"Such a beautiful creature," Gaius says, touching it reverently. "I had never thought to see its like again."

Arthur frowns at him. "Didn't you help Merlin steal it?"

Gaius huffs, affronted. "I did no such thing."

"Gaius, I know about the key. I know he took the egg. What I don't know is why."

"He had his reasons," Gaius says, evasively. "I told him not to do it. But when has Merlin ever listened to anyone?"

Arthur has to give him that. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"Because you intended to destroy it."

"No, before that," Arthur says. "I didn't even know about the egg until after he stole the key. Who was he working with?"

"Ah," Gaius says. He screws up his mouth in annoyance. "It was an old pupil of mine, Julius Borden. A troublesome fool who fled the kingdom when you were still quite young. He came to me to ask for help and I refused him. Merlin overheard."

"He was the one who stole the piece of the Triskelion," Arthur half-asks. "Who shot at us."

"Borden was not a man to be trusted," Gaius said, a hint of anger betraying his feelings. "Once Merlin realized that, he had no choice but to get to Borden first in order to save the egg. Who knows what he intended to do to this precious creature?" He smiles at the dragon and strokes it gently, his hand trembling a little, though from stress or awe Arthur cannot say.

"That still doesn't explain why Merlin helped him in the first place," Arthur insists.

Gaius gives the dragon a considering look. "How did you find it?" he asks Arthur, brow furrowed in thought.

"It just showed up yesterday," Arthur admits. "Flew right into my room like it was looking for me." As he recalls the memory, the events that preceded it rush back to him, with full clarity. Agravaine. His mother. His birth. Gaius must know all of it. How many secrets does he hide?

"And it said Merlin's name?" Gaius asks, searching for something.

"Not at first. It wasn't until I said it, and then I thought it was just copying me. It wasn't until this morning that I realized. It also said Morgana's name."

Whatever color Gaius had regained was lost as he paled again. "Then things may be worse than I feared," he says, distressed. 

"I know you've been covering for him, Gaius," Arthur says, hating to press the old man when he's still recovering from his ordeal, but they've already wasted so much precious time. "Merlin hasn't been going to the tavern. Whatever he's hiding, it doesn't matter now. I need to know the truth."

"I cannot," Gaius says, and genuinely looks regretful. "They are not my secrets to tell."

"It's not going to matter whose secrets they are if he's _dead_ , Gaius!" Arthur says, angrily. "I don't care if he's been secretly raising a dozen dragons and a forest full of unicorns! I need-- I need to get him back," he says, almost begging now. "I need him. Please, give me something."

Gaius visibly struggles, and for a moment Arthur thinks he might have to actually go down on his knees and beg. But then the dragon looks at Gaius with its big, sad eyes, and that's all it takes. Gaius sighs and slumps against the chair. Guinevere's hand tightens on his shoulder, and she's practically holding her breath.

"Merlin has not been raising dragons," Gaius begins, speaking very carefully. "But he should be. He has been torn between his loyalty to you and the duties he has inherited."

"Inherited?" Arthur asks, quietly.

"A Dragonlord's powers are handed down from father to son," Gaius says, looking straight into Arthur's eyes. "Balinor was his father."

Arthur has to sit down. He lands heavily on the chair beside Gaius' and leans his hands on his knees. "Are you saying..." 

Gaius nods. "When Balinor died, Merlin inherited his abilities. It was he who stopped the Great Dragon. And when he heard of the egg, there was nothing I could say to dissuade him. The need was instinctive."

"Why didn't he tell me?" Arthur asks, his voice sounding small even to his own ears.

"You know why," Gaius says, stronger now. 

His father, Arthur thinks. Always his father. Agravaine turned against him because of his father. Morgana turned against him because of his father. Merlin lied to him because he could not risk Arthur telling his father that his manservant had inherited the powers of a Dragonlord.

And his father lied to him, because if Arthur knew the truth, he would have killed his father and torn the kingdom apart. Arthur suddenly wishes that he had. Wishes more than anything that Merlin had not called Morgause a liar. Because she was the only one who had told him the truth.

"Leave me," Arthur says, unable to bear any more of this. 

"Arthur," Guinevere says, reaching out to soothe him.

"Both of you," Arthur says, roughly. "Out."

Guinevere bows her head and leaves.

"Sire," Gaius nods, and rises to follow. But then he turns to Arthur and says, with cold certainty: "Merlin must be in very great danger if he sent Aithusa to you. He would only do so if he had no other choice."

Arthur looks at the baby dragon, and it looks back at him with soulful eyes. "Aithusa?"

"That is her name," Gaius says. "Merlin gave it to her as he summoned her from the egg. It means 'the light of the sun'."

Arthur looks up at Gaius and sees the fear in him that Arthur will do as Uther would. That he will turn his back on Merlin and let him suffer in Morgana's clutches until she has no more use of him. His father never forgot a slight, and never forgave.

"I will get him back," Arthur swears to him. "And then the two of you will tell me everything."

Gaius nods and the door closes behind him with barely a sound.


	3. Chapter 3

"You're going to help me," Arthur says.

"Oh really?" Agravaine looks tired and not as smug as he was before, perhaps because his expected rescue has not come. His suffering is small compared to what he deserves, but Arthur will take whatever petty satisfaction he can get. "And why exactly would I do that?"

Arthur does this because he has to do this. He does this because Merlin needs him. And most of all he does this because it is the truth.

"You were right," Arthur says, forcing the words out because he still longs to repay Agravaine for his treachery. "My father lied to me, and I believed him. He was a hypocrite and a liar and I should have struck him down where he stood."

Agravaine merely cocks an eyebrow. "Do you really expect me to believe that? You know that I will never betray her."

"You will help me find her because Morgana is wrong," Arthur tells him. "The only thing she wants is revenge, and whatever she has told you, whatever grand claims she makes for the throne, I will not see Camelot suffer."

"She will be queen," Agravaine says, almost worshipful. "She will be beautiful upon her throne."

Arthur looks at his uncle, really looks at him, and an ugly realization comes over him. "You're in love with her," he says, with disgust. "All that talk about family, about my mother, and all you really care about is bedding my sister!"

"How dare you!" Agravaine stands in a lunge, but Arthur doesn't flinch or step back. He can feel Agravaine's spittle as he snarls, inches from Arthur's face.

An unpleasant thought turns in Arthur's gut. "Did you love my mother as well?" 

Agravaine stares as if Arthur has struck him. "She deserved far better than _Uther_ ," he says, quietly.

Arthur feels sick. Sick that his blood is foul from both sides, that this man is even remotely his kin. His father, his sister, his uncle; is everyone in his family mad? Was his mother? Is he doomed to be the same?

He forces down his loathing.

"If you ever loved her," he says, tersely. "If you ever cared for my mother, you will help me find Morgana. She has taken something that does not belong to her."

"Is this about that idiot boy again?" Agravaine sneers.

"He is an idiot," Arthur agrees. "And do you know what else he is? He's a Dragonlord. The last of his kind. And if she kills him, she will destroy the very magic she claims to be fighting for."

Agravaine pales. "That's impossible. Balinor--"

"--is dead," Arthur says. "Merlin is his son."

"You're lying," Agravaine says, shaking his head in denial. "You're _lying_!"

"Aithusa," Arthur calls, and Aithusa flies into the room and lands on his shoulder. She chirps at Arthur and hisses at Agravaine, then curls her tail around Arthur's neck protectively.

Agravaine leans back against the stone wall, looking as if his world has turned upside-down. Arthur is perversely glad that someone else finally feels as he does. Agravaine stares at Aithusa as if the little creature is the rarest of jewels, worth far more than a crown or a throne or even a woman's love.

"I will help you," Agravaine says, at last.

§

"I don't trust him," Gwaine says.

"Neither do I," Arthur admits. "But he is our only hope of reaching Morgana."

The four of them -- Arthur, Gwaine, Percival and Agravaine -- had set out that morning towards the Valley of the Fallen Kings, where apparently despite countless searches by his patrols, Morgana has somehow managed to remain undetected. Arthur is starting to believe that Merlin is right about the place. Nothing good ever happens here.

Agravaine looks back at them over his shoulder. "Not far now," he says, no doubt having heard them muttering about him. He has ears like a bat.

They find Morgana's hovel deep in the heart of the forest, little more than a cave with a door. It's a far cry from the bright, ornate chambers she once kept, with airy windows and fresh flowers brought in every day by Guinevere. Everything is filthy and drab, and Arthur can barely comprehend how far Morgana has fallen for her to choose such a life. For her beauty and spirit to curdle and sour. How much of it is his fault? He has asked himself so many times what he could have done to save her, but has never found an answer.

The hearth is cold and it's apparent that no one has been there for days. They find Merlin's jacket abandoned on the floor, and Aithusa burrows under it, sniffing and making sad sounds.

"You miss him," Arthur says, and the little dragon peers back from underneath. It strikes Arthur just how young she is, that in some way Merlin is supposed to be the one to take care of her. Did he abandon her in the woods to fend for herself because he couldn't risk bringing a dragon into Camelot? Uther is dead and Arthur is the king. Merlin could have told him the truth, could have trusted him.

But then, Merlin had tried to tell him the truth about Agravaine, and Arthur had made his feelings clear. Between abandonment and death, Merlin must have made the only choice he could. All those times that he disappeared, he must have been doing what he could to care for her. When he gets Merlin back, that's all going to change. Arthur can imagine what the lords and councilors will think of their brand new king overturning decades of precedent and allowing a dragon and a dragonlord back into the kingdom, into the castle. If he's not careful, there may be open revolt. But if Merlin was the one who saved Camelot from the Great Dragon, that should go some way in easing their concerns. 

"Where would she have taken him?" Arthur asks, turning to Agravaine. The man actually looks distraught, and Arthur wonders if he thinks Morgana has abandoned him. It's possible that she has. Arthur himself expected her to make _some_ attempt at rescuing Agravaine, and there hasn't been so much as a whisper. But then, why should a traitor expect loyalty?

"I don't know," Agravaine says, at a loss. 

Gwaine grabs Agravaine by the cloak and leans close. "Don't lie to us," says, threatening. 

"Get your hands off me," Agravaine snarls, pushing him off, but Gwaine only takes that as encouragement. He slams Agravaine up against the wall and presses his arm across his throat. "Your nephew there might be too noble to do anything to you, but me? I'm common as muck. I don't mind getting my hands dirty."

Percival backs him up, towering over Agravaine and crossing his arms to display his bulging muscles. There's a set to his jaw that conveys to Agravaine that Percival would welcome any attempt to escape, because he would enjoy pummelling a snivelling worm like him into the dirt.

"Arthur," Agravaine pleads, looking desperately about. "Please. If I knew anything..."

"I'm certain you'd tell me," Arthur says, disdain dripping from his voice. "You must have some way to reach her. How do you share information?"

"I come here," Agravaine says, voice tight from the pressure of Gwaine's arm. "I sneak out of the castle at night. Report what I know."

"No carrier birds? No messengers?"

Agravaine shakes his head. "Too much risk of interception. And she doesn't..."

"Doesn't what?" Arthur prompts.

Despite Gwaine's hold, Agravaine seems to straighten up, and there's a proud glint in his eyes. "I'm the only one she trusts."

Arthur turns away in disgust. He considers what he knows, tries to make some sense out of everything he's learned. Aithusa climbs out from under Merlin's jacket, only to drag it along after her as she flies up onto a table, like a toddler with a favorite blanket.

"Why did you take Gaius?" Arthur asks him. "You already knew all our defenses and vulnerabilities. Was it only to divert suspicion? Why torture him, why not just kill him?"

"Morgana is looking for someone," Agravaine admits. "An old sorcerer called Emrys. He attacked her. Gaius had to be helping him, he knew about the Fomorroh--"

"The what?"

Agravaine stills. "It doesn't matter."

Arthur steps closer, and Gwaine tightens his hold. "Tell me," Arthur commands.

"Your servant--" Agravaine says, then swallows. "The Dragonlord. Morgana put a creature inside him to control him. He was meant to kill you. Gaius must have realized and asked Emrys for help. Emrys destroyed the creature."

"Merlin?" Arthur says, in disbelief. "She sent _Merlin_ to kill me? That's the most ridiculous..." But he trails off as he remembers Merlin's strange behavior. The way Guinevere and Gaius had kept turning up and taking Merlin away. Even Guinevere had been lying to him!

Arthur could understand why Merlin and Gaius would need to hide Aithusa from him. He could understand why Merlin wouldn't feel safe admitting to Arthur that he had become a Dragonlord. But if Morgana had enchanted Merlin, there was no excuse for them not to tell him. He would hardly have blamed Merlin for it.

"This Emrys," Arthur says, thinking. "She thinks Gaius knows who he is? That Merlin knows?"

"Gaius denied it, but I knew he was lying," Agravaine says. "Emrys attacked her! We had no choice."

Something niggles at the back of Arthur's mind. "Tell me about him. Describe him."

"Morgana said he was an old man. Long white hair, long beard. Long red robes."

Gwaine turns to Percival, then to Arthur. "That sounds like..."

"Dragoon," Arthur finished. "That would explain the connection to Gaius."

"But he killed your father," Percival says, confused.

"Apparently not," Arthur says, though he's not sure what to think anymore. Dragoon first appeared from nowhere to take the blame when his father accused Guinevere of enchanting him. Then Gaius and Merlin led him to the old sorcerer when Arthur sought to heal his father, and that had ended with Dragoon being sentenced to death for sorcery and regicide. Yet apparently he had remained in Camelot and changed his name to Emrys. He must be powerful to defeat Morgana.

"If he helped Merlin before, maybe he'll help now?" Gwaine suggests.

"Good thing I know where to find him," Arthur says.

Agravaine gapes at him. "You _what_?"

§

Dragoon's hut is still there at the narrow end of the valley, and there's charcoal smoldering in the rock circle out front. Arthur strides towards the door and barges in without knocking, saying "All right, _Em_ rys, get your wrinkled backside out here right-- Oh."

A young woman stares at him, a tanning flogger dropping from her hand and clattering to the dirt floor. An equally young man steps out from the curtained room; he has no beard and wears brown work clothes and a leather apron. 

"King Arthur!" the woman blurts, and hurries to bow. The man recovers from his shock enough to follow suit.

"Um, yes. Hello. Er, is this your hut?"

"Yes, sire," said the man. He looks up, clearly baffled by the sudden royal visit. "Sire?"

"And you've lived here for how long?"

"A few months, sire," says the woman. "It was my father's hut but he... the Dorocha, sire."

"Yes," Arthur says, suppressing a shiver at the name. Whole villages had been wiped out, and he had first come to the hut not long after the Veil had been healed. He turns once, surveying the space. The roof has been patched up and there are different animals hanging from the ceiling, but it's definitely the same place. He even sees a shard of broken pottery from the jar that he'd broken, where it has been kicked along the wall and forgotten.

"Do you know an old man?" he asks them, narrowing his eyes at them. "Long white hair, long beard, red robes? Extremely bad attitude? Goes by the names of Dragoon and Emrys?"

The couple just stares at him, uncomprehending.

"Right. Sorry to have bothered you." Arthur turns and storms out, feeling humiliated. Merlin had taken him here and they had met Dragoon. Or rather Arthur had met Dragoon, while Merlin hid in the bushes pretending he was peeing, for his usual unfathomable reasons. Gaius and Dragoon must have set this up as neutral ground, which means that this is a dead end.

Aithusa leaps up from her perch on Gwaine's shoulder and flies back to him. "Merlin," she says, plaintively.

"If Morgana hasn't already killed him, I'm going to finish the job for her," Arthur mutters.

"Let go back to Morgana's," Gwaine suggests. "Maybe there's something we missed."

Arthur thinks that what he really wants to do is let Agravaine torture the full truth out of Gaius once and for all. But he can't, and he won't, and getting information out of Gaius is like squeezing blood from a stone at the best of times. If Gaius knows where Merlin is he would have already said so, no matter how many secrets are tangled up in it. They have to hope that Morgana left something behind to tell them where she has gone.

§

They pore over every inch of the hovel and they find a lot of things, but none of them are of use. There are potions and pots and scrolls full of spells, and none of it makes any sense to Arthur. He sits down and leans his head on his hands, feeling overwhelmed and lost. It's an awful feeling and he hates it, and if Merlin was here he would be quick with some absurdity or self-deprecating joke, or just a reassuring touch or look. They've always communicated best without words, needing only a raised eyebrow or a quirked smile to convey what would take hours and much embarrassment to say aloud. But Arthur wonders if maybe that's been part of the problem. That things could be so easy with Merlin that Arthur didn't want to acknowledge anything that might change that.

Five days. How much longer can this go on? Are they already chasing after a dead man? Arthur realizes that his only hope is that Morgana has found out about Merlin being a Dragonlord, because he can't think of any other reason why she'd keep him alive. Especially now that he knows about the Fomorroh. Merlin didn't escape from the mercenaries. Morgana let him go because he was more useful to her alive. Because she could use him to kill.

He remembers the complete shock he had felt when Morgana had stood with Morgause in the throne room and told them all that she was Uther's daughter, his sister. What was it she had said? That she wanted Uther to suffer as she had suffered. She had felt alone and afraid, disgusted with who and what she was. They had known each other almost their whole lives, and he had not known any of that. He had always seen Morgana as his father's favorite, that she was the one who took all of his father's praise and smiles and love and left little for Arthur to survive on. He can admit to himself that there were times that he hated her for that, but it seems she hated him more. That she also felt like she could never be enough, never measure up to their father's impossible standards. And worse, because his father did not accept her as his child. Because she had magic, and knew that no amount of Uther's praise and smiles could stand against that. To their father, magic was the ultimate betrayal, and anyone who had it deserved a traitor's death.

He wants to believe that he can still reach her. That he can make her see that he isn't their father, that she doesn't need to punish him for their father's sins. But she doesn't care about anyone anymore. Even Agravaine seems to have been shaken by her disappearance, taking it as a sort of abandonment despite his pride in being worthy of her trust.

Uther never forgot a slight, and never forgave. In the end, Morgana may be too much her father's daughter. Arthur doesn't know how to reach her if she doesn't want to be found.

After an hour in the hovel, Aithusa has hopped and sniffed and licked at almost everything in sight, like a dog scenting for prey. Finally she noses at a small leather pouch and knocks it from the table, and a fist-sized crystal tumbles out of it.

"What's this?" Percival says, picking it up. He turns it around but shrugs, and hands it to Arthur. 

Arthur peers into the crystal, searching for some hint of its purpose.

"Merlin," Aithusa mewls, and butts the crystal with her nose. She pulls in a deep breath, and then breathes out some kind of sparkling mist, and Arthur nearly drops the crystal as it suddenly glows. He's glad he doesn't when he sees _Merlin_ in the crystal, wan and unconscious but definitely _not dead_ , and for the first time in days the tension eases from his chest.

"He's alive," he says, unable to stop grinning. He shakes the crystal as if to dislodge Merlin from within it and send him tumbling to the floor. "Is he trapped inside?"

"It's a scrying crystal," Agravaine explains. 

"Maybe it goes both ways," Gwaine offers, peering over Arthur's shoulder. "Try talking to him. Hey, Merlin! Wake up!"

"Merlin," Arthur calls, his grip tight on the crystal. "Merlin, can you hear me? Merlin!" When Merlin doesn't stir, Arthur decides that more decisive action is called for. "Wake up, you lazy, incompetent, useless idiot!" he shouts.

Arthur's breath catches as he sees Merlin's lashes flutter. "Arthur?" Merlin says, and he sounds weak and ill but he's opened his eyes and Arthur could swear that Merlin sees him. "Arthur?"

The little dragon flies around the crystal, chirping and mewling, and Merlin musters the slightest of smiles. "Aithusa? How?"

"She found me," Arthur says, feeling an odd rush of joy that Merlin had called for him after all, that Aithusa has brought them back together. "Merlin, where are you? What happened?"

"Morgana," Merlin says, but his eyes are closing again. "Trapped. Can't... Arthur..."

"Merlin? Don't fall asleep, you idiot, we don't know where you are! Merlin!" But no amount of insults will rouse him this time, and Arthur is stuck with the image of an unconscious Dragonlord. 

But Aithusa doesn't seem very disappointed. She flies around the room, chirping frantically, and then flies straight out the door. Arthur holds the crystal to his chest and runs after her, out into the woods and into a huge clearing. And stops, almost falling over in shock, but doesn't drop the crystal.

There's another dragon in the clearing, and it's very big, and very, very familiar.

"You're supposed to be dead!" Arthur shouts at it, his sword already in hand. 

"It is lucky for all of us that I am not," says the dragon, with a voice like surprisingly placid thunder. "The witch has taken that which does not belong to her, and if you do not stop her she will take even more."

"What do you think I've been trying to do?" Arthur says, angrily. "Where's Merlin?"

"I do not know," says the dragon, quite annoyed. "He is hidden from me, but your connection to Merlin is even greater than mine. Even the witch's magic cannot obscure him from you."

Arthur feels strangely pleased to be told this by a gigantic murderous dragon.

"Holy shit," curses Gwaine, having finally caught up. Percival boggles silently, and looks down at his longsword as if it might as well be a splinter of wood.

"The Great Dragon," says Agravaine, worshipfully. He bows his head as if addressing royalty. "It is an honor."

The Great Dragon looks at Agravaine as if he is a vaguely annoying gnat. It turns back to Arthur. "You have come far, young king, but you must go farther still if you are to fulfil your destiny."

Arthur frowns. "What does that mean? How do I find him?"

"You already have everything you need. Use the crystal." 

The Great Dragon lifts its wings, clearly done with the conversation, but Arthur feels more confused now than he did before the dragon arrived. "Wait! What do you mean, use the crystal?"

"Aithusa will guide you. That is why I sent her." Its great eyes seems to bore into Arthur, and it slowly blinks. "I can never return to Camelot myself," it says, meaningfully. "Fail him and I will forget that."

For a threat it's very vague, but Arthur is certain that he does not want to hear what a Great Dragon's threat is when it's specific. He still remembers the days of acrid smoke and the nights of burning flesh.

With a great stroke of its wings, the huge bulk of the dragon lifts impossibly into the air, and in moments it is away, away, a dark speck in the distance. And just as with an unconscious Merlin, no amount of shouting will bring it back.

"Well that was helpful," Gwaine says, sourly.

§

They return to Camelot, Arthur feeling only slightly better for the journey. Merlin is alive, but they have no way to reach him, and even the Great Dragon doesn't know where he or Morgana have gone. It is as if they have vanished from the face of the earth. Gwaine returns Agravaine to the cells, and Arthur takes the crystal to Gaius' chambers.

"Merlin," Gaius says, with soft wonder, his fingers barely brushing at the crystal. Relief tears away his stoicism and reveals all the worry and exhaustion beneath.

"I spoke to him briefly," Arthur says. "He didn't say much, only that Morgana has trapped him somewhere. I'm hoping he'll wake up again. Maybe he can tell us more."

"My dear boy," Gaius says, and touches over Merlin's face. "What has she done to you?"

Aithusa hops from Arthur's shoulders to a nearby table and chews on a bundle of herbs Gaius has left there to dry. She makes a face and spits it out. She's still dragging Merlin's jacket around in her claws.

"Gaius, I know this is about more than Merlin being a Dragonlord. I need to know more about Emrys."

"I cannot say," Gaius says, drawing back.

"I told you I would bring him back," Arthur reminds him. "This isn't exactly as I pictured it, but it will have to do. If you are worried for his life, I will remind you that I am _not_ my father. I don't care that he's a Dragonlord. I just want to bring him home."

"Yes," Gaius says, with a bitter smile. "Silence is not an easy habit to break."

Arthur turns the crystal in his hands. Merlin's head and upper torso are visible, and he really does seem to be suspended in the crystal. What little is visible around him is pure white, like he's nowhere at all. If he puts it down or hands it to someone else, the vision is lost. Arthur can't bring himself to let go of it now, for fear that the next time he picks it up Merlin won't come back again.

Gaius sighs with audible resignation. "I will tell you what I told Alator, the Catha who tortured me. Emrys is a man destined for greatness. A man who will one day unite the powers of the old world and the new, and bring the time that the poets speak of. The time of Albion."

"Are you serious?" Arthur asks, confused. "That old man?"

"He is far more than he appears," Gaius says, with a strange sort of pride. "He is the most powerful sorcerer who has ever lived."

"He couldn't save my father," Arthur says, fighting back the anger and betrayal he had felt, still feels.

"Emrys did everything in his power to save him," Gaius says, more riled than Arthur has ever seen him. He turns away, seemingly out of frustration, but then turns back again with his hand outstretched. There is a small silver charm in his palm. "Your father was already dying, but this is what hastened his end."

Arthur takes it carefully, and it's strangely cold to the touch. "What is it?"

"It is enchanted," Gaius says. "Intended to reverse any attempt to heal your father."

Arthur doesn't need to ask where it came from, how it got there. Only a very few people knew of Arthur's plan to use magic to heal his father. Three of them are (in some form) in this room, and the fourth is locked in a cell. A slow burn of anger ignites in him.

"You should have brought this to me. You should have told me. You had _no right_ to hide this from me." When Gaius does not reply, it only stokes Arthur's anger higher. "Is this how you treated my father, in all your years of _faithful_ service? Did you wave the truth under his nose and laugh at him behind his back when he did not see it?"

"Uther was my king," Gaius says, with steely calm. "I served him as best I could, and if he did not see what was in front of him it was because he chose not to see it. We are all guilty of blindness, Arthur." And then, as if the use of such familiarity has taken something from him, Gaius grows mild again. "Some secrets are not mine to share."

"Then whose are they?" Arthur demands.

"Do not ask me that," Gaius says.

Arthur has to collect himself before he can speak again. "I am no longer a nurseling, Gaius. I am your king. Tell me where Emrys is."

"I wish I could, sire," Gaius says, sadly. 

"Emrys could save Merlin's life, and still you lie to me?" Arthur says, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Aithusa stop her playing and watch them, alarmed by his raised voice.

"I cannot tell you what I do not know," Gaius says, raising his own voice.

"Can you tell me anything?" Arthur accuses. Every discovery has built up and up inside him until he feels as if he will explode. "You talk to me about trust when you have been lying to me my entire life! Both you and my father!"

Gaius goes still, and Arthur _knows_ then, knows that Gaius understands exactly what he means.

"My mother is dead because of him," Arthur says, low and furious. "He used _magic_. He used _magic_ , and then he turned around and he--" He runs out of words. He's actually trembling with rage, and he forces himself to relax only so that he does not damage the crystal with the force of his grip. 

Gaius sits down heavily, all the years showing in him.

"Tell me why, Gaius," Arthur says. "Why do I learn the truth only from traitors and enemies?"

"I made a promise to your father."

Arthur laughs bitterly. "And that's all it took? You knew the truth. You knew what he was doing was... it was _murder_. He murdered hundreds of people! And you helped him! _I_ helped him!"

Gaius closes his eyes. When he opens them again, they're distant with memory. "Uther was my friend. There was a time when we were almost like brothers. Your mother... her death nearly killed him. I could not abandon him."

"And what about everyone else?" Arthur accuses, because it's not enough, not nearly enough.

"I did what I could," Gaius says, solemnly. "His rage was absolute, blinding. He was still in his prime. No one could stand against him. And you were... you were so small." A tear streaks down his cheek and he wipes it away. "I promised your mother I would look after you. I chose to stay and help those I could. In my position, I could make arrangements, send warnings. I could ensure that the Old Religion would survive."

Arthur tries to imagine it. Gaius has always seemed so meek, so willing to bend to his father's every whim. But it would be the perfect disguise. His father's closest advisor, entrusted with the care of his only, precious heir. Gaius must have betrayed his father countless times, and his father never knew. 

"You should have told me," Arthur says, but the demand is weak even to his own ears.

Gaius looks directly at him, his eyes rimmed with red. "It would have destroyed you. You nearly killed him."

"I should have."

"No," Gaius says, shaking his head. "I could not let you suffer the same fate as your father. You are meant for better, Arthur. You always were."

"Is that where Merlin gets it from?" Arthur asks, bitterly. "This idea that I'm supposed to be some great king?"

"He believes in you because he knows you," Gaius says, gently. "He knows your heart. Ygraine... you have her kindness, sire. So much of her has survived in you."

Aithusa perches at the end of the table and churrs at him, her big eyes full of concern. With a few flaps she hops onto Arthur's shoulders and curls her tail around him again, as if to keep him from harm. She purrs loudly in his ear, the rumble of it running down his chest and arm. Merlin's jacket drapes down his back, clutched in her back claws.

"She trusts you," Gaius says, a hint of envy in his voice. "Dragons are creatures of wonder and magic. It is a great honor that she has chosen you. A blessing of the Old Religion."

Arthur reaches up and pets her, and she purrs even louder. He can't help but smile, just a little. He wonders if this is how Merlin felt when the unicorn walked out from the forest, pure and trusting. If he had felt that way when he rescued the egg and hatched Aithusa. Like he had been given a gift beyond riches. 

"Trust yourself, Arthur," Gaius says. "Trust your heart. That is what will make you a great king."

§

Trust his heart. Arthur has never been very good at trusting his heart. It's his head he's always listened to, and the voice that speaks the loudest in it has always been his father's. It told him how to be a prince, to be a king. It told him how to be a man, and he had believed it implicitly.

His father had been no man, no king. He had been a child, lashing out in a tantrum because he could not have his way. He had not cared for his kingdom but punished it, gutting the magic from it because magic would not blindly obey him. Because his father would accept nothing less than absolute loyalty, and any who contradicted him, who questioned him, who dared stand against him would suffer the ultimate penalty. Arthur sees that now in Gaius, in Morgana, in Agravaine. Even in himself.

He thought he had taken the brunt of his father's anger, but he was wrong. People have given their lives to shelter him. To spare him from the depths of his father's bitterness lest it hollow him out as well. Even though he has done little to earn it, they believe in him. They believe he will be something better. That he will be great.

He wants to be that for them. More than anything, he wants that. To be the king they seek, to heal the loss and suffering that were the consequences of his birth. He wants to deserve the trust they have given him. He wants to deserve their faith.

Aithusa has made a nest of Merlin's jacket on his desk, and she rests on it and grooms her wings after a long day of travel and play. He wonders how much of all this she understands. The Great Dragon had said that Aithusa would guide him, that he could somehow use the crystal to find Merlin. But the image of Merlin never wakes, never so much as twitches. His breathing is shallow and slow, and Arthur fears that they are finally running out of time.

"You can't die, Merlin," Arthur tells him, hoping that even unconscious Merlin will still hear him, will do as he says even though Merlin rarely listens to him even when he's wide awake. "I am your king and I forbid it. You have to hold on."

Arthur's voice catches at the end, and a knot of grief tightens his throat. If Merlin dies... How can Arthur listen to his heart if it is clenched in pain? How can he be Merlin's great king if Merlin isn't by his side? Arthur has never believed in destiny, but if he has one to fulfil, surely he isn't meant to do it alone.

"King Arthur Pendragon and his Dragonlord," Arthur says to Merlin, trying to keep his voice light so Merlin doesn't worry. "It has a good ring to it. Don't you think? We can spoil Aithusa together. Give her honeycomb--" 

He has to stop, because he can't say any more without breaking down. The voice in his head has always told him never to cry, that no man is worth his tears. He had cried over his father anyway, and now Merlin... If Merlin dies, he thinks he may never stop.

_[Entrusted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/965328/) by [Alby_Mangroves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alby_Mangroves/pseuds/Alby_Mangroves)_

__

§

Exhaustion of body and heart finally drive Arthur to bed. He fights sleep to the end, soothed only by the heavy weight of the crystal in his hand and over his heart and Aithusa's purring warmth on his chest. She rests her head beside the crystal and he feels her breath on his hand, steady and lulling.

He falls deep. He dreams.

He's surrounded by white mist, so thick that he can barely see his own hand in front of his face. It's familiar, and he realizes he's been here before.

He wanders for what seems like days. He knows he's trying to reach something, but he's blocked from it, and it slides away from him when he comes close.

_Help me_ , he thinks, calling out with his thoughts for someone, anyone to hear. _I have to find him. Please. Please._

A tingling warmth starts in his hand, and he stares at it through the mist. The warmth strengthens, spreads down his arm and into his chest and oh, _oh_. He doesn't know what's happening to him, but he feels strange, feels sharp and clear and as if he's more than alive. He charges into the mist again and finds the resistance and tears through it as if it is the thinnest vellum.

"Merlin," Arthur breathes, rushing to him. "Merlin! I'm here!"

Merlin is laid out on a stone plinth, and he's nearly as pale as the endless mist around them. Arthur grabs him and shakes him, too relieved to be gentle. 

"Wake up!" he commands, shaking him again, again. He would haul Merlin over his shoulder and take him home, but Arthur doesn't know where he is, how he is here at all.

As he holds onto Merlin, the tingling warmth strengthens in his hand. This time he can feel it pouring out of him and into Merlin, and as he watches he sees Merlin's breathing deepen, his lips and cheeks regain their color. He stirs, his lashes flutter, and he opens his eyes.

"Arthur?" Merlin says, weak and confused.

Arthur grins, laughs. "You're back," he says, relief rushing through him like the tingling warmth. "I thought..." He shakes his head. "I'm trying to rescue you."

"Rescue me?" Merlin echoes, still confused. He doesn't seem to be entirely restored by whatever is helping them. "You shouldn't be here. Morgana..."

"Where did she take you?" Arthur presses, urgently.

"I don't know. We were travelling..." Merlin shakes his head. "I couldn't stop her. I'm sorry, Arthur. I failed you."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asks, baffled.

"I should have killed her. And now I think... I think I might be dead."

"No," Arthur says, sternly. "Merlin, you are not dead."

"It hurts so much," Merlin says, tears in his eyes. His clutches weakly at his chest. "I can't feel anything. I can't feel my magic."

Arthur opens his mouth to ask Merlin to try and make the slightest bit of sense, but Merlin suddenly opens his eyes wide and grips Arthur's wrist painfully tight.

"She's going to come for you," Merlin says, terrified. "When she's finished with me. I won't be able to stop her. You won't be safe."

"Merlin--"

"Promise me you'll be safe!" Merlin begs, and then cries out in pain, arching from the stone. "No," he slurs, shaking his head back and forth. "No, she's here. She's back. Arthur, run!"

"I'm not leaving you," Arthur swears to him, grabbing Merlin even as Merlin tries to push him away. Whatever strength had been restored to him is failing now, and his efforts are weak, clumsy. He's fading again.

"No!" Arthur shouts, and pulls at the tingling warmth as if to draw more into himself, into Merlin. He feels a rush of heat around him, and the mist begins to burn away, revealing a stone floor littered with moss and brown leaves, chunks of fallen masonry scattered around. 

"I know this place," Arthur realizes, but staggers as he feels the resistance return, feels it forcing him back and back. The mist returns, thicker than before, and Arthur loses sight of Merlin. The resistance becomes a force flinging him off his feet, and he falls backwards into nothingness.

He wakes with a start, sitting up and tumbling Aithusa from his chest. He's sweating and breathing hard, and he looks down at the crystal and is horrified to see that it has become cracked and clouded.

_Morgana,_ Arthur thinks furiously. She took Merlin away from him. She took what does not belong to her, and Arthur is going to get him back.

He hurries out of bed, leaving the broken crystal behind and pulling on his fighting clothes. He calls for a servant, for his armor and horse, for his knights to prepare themselves to ride.

He knows where Merlin is now. Where Morgana has taken him. He knows the ruins where Lancelot sacrificed his life to heal the Veil. 

The Isle of the Blessed.

Arthur runs from the room, Aithusa fluttering after him.


	4. Chapter 4

They leave before sunrise, just as the stars have faded into the pale light of the sky. It's a three day ride to the Isle of the Blessed at best, and by the time they reach Merlin it will have been over a week since his abduction. Whatever Morgana is doing to him, she will have had plenty of time to finish the job. He remembers how Morgause spirited Morgana away in a whirlwind, and he wishes more than anything that he had a sorcerer of his own right now, that he could ride a whirlwind to Merlin and bring him home.

Except he does. He's had a sorcerer of his own all along, and never knew.

Arthur had ordered Gaius roused along with his knights, and Gaius met them in the courtyard, slow from sleep but looking to Arthur with such hope.

"You know where he is?" he asked, with barely contained excitement.

"The Isle of the Blessed," Arthur told him, inspecting his sword before sheathing it in his belt. He turned to Gaius then, and looked him right in the eye, and said, calmly, "Morgana has done something to his magic."

Gaius froze, and looked around the courtyard as if expecting one of the milling servants or knights or even Arthur himself to cry out "Sorcery! Magic!" and haul him away. After living with such fear for over twenty years, it would be hard to shake.

How hard to shake would such fear be if one was born into it?

"Yes," Gaius said, slow and careful. "But he is alive?"

Arthur nodded. "He's been protecting me," he said, and it wasn't really a question. Not when he saw the desperation that Merlin felt, the need to keep Arthur safe. 

"With his life," Gaius said. Relief slowly ebbed away the fear in his eyes. "Thank you, sire." Gaius didn't say what for, but he didn't have to. It was for everything. For not being afraid of what he was raised to fear. For seeing Merlin for who and what he was and accepting him. For not being his father.

Arthur nodded in acknowledgement.

"If I may ask, sire. How did you find him?"

"Aithusa," Arthur said, quirking a smile at the dragon perched on his horse's saddle, nosing at where Merlin's jacket was tucked into a saddlebag. "She helped me see clearly."

Gaius looked to Aithusa and muttered something under his breath, and made a strange gesture. Arthur realized with a start that Gaius was _praying_. He had never seen Gaius pray before. Even though the Old Religion was not explicitly banned, it was so deeply tied to magic that it had been purged almost entirely from the city.

But it hadn't. It had no more been purged than magic had been. It had merely gone underground, kept itself secret and safe until the time was right. Until there was a new king upon the throne.

"Thank you," Arthur said. _Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for the truth._

They ride the horses as hard as they can without exhausting them. Time is against them, but they must be ready to fight as well as ride. They rest when they must and eat when they are hungry, and when night falls they make camp to sleep.

"We'll reach the Isle in two days," Arthur says, even though they already know it. They made this same journey only months before, Lancelot and Merlin with them. Lancelot is dead now, sacrificed to the Cailleach, and they can only hope that Merlin is holding on. They are five now instead of seven, and the night is quiet without the ghostly screams of the dead. Memories and fresh fears hang around them like a shroud, and they barely talk.

Arthur and Leon take first watch.

Halfway through the second day they pass the crumbling fortress where Merlin saved his life by throwing himself into a Dorocha. Arthur shivers at the memory. Merlin had been so cold, so close to death. Arthur still remembers the way all the hope had gone out of him at once at the sight. That Merlin had survived at all had been a miracle, but then he had returned to Arthur as hale and hearty as he had in the forest, though that time without the mud. He should have known, then, that Merlin had magic. That there was something special about him that protected him.

He has always known that there is something special about Merlin, from the very beginning. Merlin has never been a typical manservant, a typical anything. In fact, Merlin is an awful manservant, as the man himself will cheerfully admit. But Arthur long ago stopped caring about Merlin's shoddy housekeeping and poor stitchwork and the fact that he's late almost every morning with breakfast.

He hasn't kept Merlin around because Merlin is a servant. It is not even because Merlin is his friend, and despite his many protestations he considers Merlin to be his closest, dearest friend. It is something more than all of that, something deeper and almost too great to acknowledge. But for the first time, there's a real chance that Merlin may be lost to him, and acknowledgement swells in his chest like a vise around his heart.

The second night they camp out in the open air again. They have no need of shelter from spirits, and the weather is calm and clear. The fire pops, and Aithusa chases after the sparks as they fly into the air and wink out. Gwaine tosses a piece of meat into the air and she catches it and swallows it down, then flutters about him begging for more.

"I think she likes me," Gwaine says, smiling for the first time since they left Camelot.

"She likes your dinner," Elyan corrects. "Watch." He tosses a piece of his own dinner at Gwaine's head, and Aithusa intercepts it neatly. She hops over to Elyan and opens her mouth for more. Percival laughs and throws a piece of his own, and the knights play with her that way until she is full and tired of their game. She curls up next to Arthur's bedroll on her nest of Merlin's jacket.

All through the journey, Arthur has felt Leon's questioning eyes on his back, seen him watching Aithusa with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. When they had been preparing to ride out, Leon had seen the little dragon and drawn his sword in alarm. Gwaine had been the one to quietly talk him down, to explain to Leon and Elyan that Merlin had saved the egg from the tower and hatched it, raised it. That it was not a threat and had come to Arthur to help save Merlin from Morgana. Elyan accepted it easily, but Leon... Leon is the only one of his knights who served his father, who swore his service to him. Leon is the only one of his knights who has spent his whole life in Camelot and never lived in other kingdoms where magic is accepted.

Arthur looks at his men, and he knows he has to start with them. He has to make the first step with those he trusts because he knows they will be honest with him. 

"I need to tell you something," he says, and his words are quiet but it sobers the four of them immediately.

"Sire?" Leon prompts, when Arthur pauses for too long.

"No matter what happens with Morgana," Arthur says, choosing his words carefully. "When we return to Camelot, I will be lifting the ban on magic."

"You what?" Leon says, smiling with disbelief. He looks around to the others, but even Elyan is quiet. Arthur wonders what suspicions the three of them shared during their watch the night before.

"He can't be serious," Leon tells them. "Arthur, tell them you're joking."

"It's Merlin, isn't it?" Gwaine asks, looking to Arthur. "Dragonlords have magic, right?"

Arthur knows he didn't tell them that Merlin inherited his father's powers. "How did you--"

"The dungeon guards have big ears and loose tongues," Gwaine says, easily. "Especially once they've got a few rounds of ale down their throats. Agravaine's been muttering about it since you went down there with Aithusa and shouted at him."

Arthur rubs at his face. This truly forces the issue, but at least he made the decision on his own terms. "Of course," he sighs. "Yes, Merlin is a Dragonlord. Balinor was his father."

Leon looks even more stunned than Arthur felt when he first found out. But then Leon was the first to volunteer on what had seemed a suicide mission against the Great Dragon. Leon had been badly injured, so much so that Arthur and Merlin had thought him dead and left him with the bodies of the other knights. Leon had staggered back to Camelot under his own steam and collapsed at the gate, and Gaius and Merlin had nursed him back to health.

"Merlin is also a sorcerer," Arthur says, and Leon _pales_.

"No," Leon says, shaking his head. "Impossible. He... Sire, he must have... _enchanted_ you, to make you do this. He has enchanted all of us! You cannot remove the ban!"

"It will be done," Arthur says, firmly. "My mind is fully my own, as is yours."

"But even a Dragonlord's magic, sire," Leon insists, fearful. "One spell is all it takes. If Merlin has been using magic for years, he is corrupted. He is lost."

Arthur wonders if he ever really believed his father's propaganda. Time and again Arthur had sought to satisfy his own curiosity about magic, even when doing so went against his father's direct orders. That's what makes it sting so much that Gaius and Merlin had hid their magic from him. He might have been angry, might have struggled with the knowledge, but he would have _listened_. He would have kept their secrets with them.

He defended Guinevere when she used magic to heal her father. He saved the Druid boy and paid respect to the unicorn. He supplicated himself to Morgause for just a chance to see his mother. Part of him has always known that that there is more to magic than his father's claims of corruption. 

"My father was wrong," he says, his voice clear and confident. "He lied to me, to everyone. You were there, Leon, when I first found out the truth. I nearly killed him for it."

"But..." Leon says, even more confused. "It was Merlin who stopped you. And all those things you said..."

Arthur will never forget the rage that blinded him that day. The sheer fury at his father's crimes. The utter relief when Merlin convinced him that they were lies. Arthur hadn't wanted to believe that his own father could be such a monster, and he had taken the lifeline and clung to it, even as he had been driven to his knees. He remembers his father's forgiveness and it makes him feel sick.

"Everything I said was true," Arthur tells him, looking right into his eyes. "My father killed my mother and blamed her death on the magic he himself used freely. His lies have poisoned my kingdom and I will bear them no more."

Arthur watches as the reactions play across Leon's face. The denial, the shock, the realization of the consequences of Uther's lies. The horror at what he has done in the king's name. Arthur feels a great sympathy for him, having gone through the same reactions himself. None of the other knights could know how it feels, knighted only when Arthur had already become king in all but name. They do not have innocent blood on their hands.

"He lied to all of us," Arthur says, and it's as much comfort as he can offer. 

"If Merlin has magic, then why has Morgana taken him?" Elyan asks.

"It seems Merlin has been protecting us," Arthur says, and despite everything he's learned it still amuses him. "Remember the immortal soldiers? How they just exploded all of a sudden?" He turns to Leon again. "When Cenred's army attacked us with the Blood Guard? It could not have been Morgana who turned the battle in our favor, because we now know she was working with Morgause." He laughs, thinking of how often the same pattern has been repeated. "Or when everyone fell asleep and Morgause came in with the Knights of Medhir and they collapsed for no reason?"

Gwaine raises his eyebrows. "Seems he's been busy."

"I think Lancelot knew," Percival says, thoughtful. "When Cenred's men raided my village, Lancelot said something like, 'I have a friend who can help us. And he knows a prince.' And when he brought Merlin back after the Dorocha hit him, he said he couldn't explain how Merlin had recovered, but I knew he was lying."

Gwaine nods. "Lancelot was a terrible liar."

"But a good man," Percival says. "A noble man. He wouldn't have protected Merlin if Merlin was evil."

"Merlin doesn't have an evil bone in his body," Gwaine says, daring anyone to say otherwise. 

Leon holds up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right. Look, it's just... it's a lot to take in. And Arthur, if you're serious about the law--"

"I am," Arthur says.

"I will stand by you," Leon says. "But if you change the law without explaining why, the people will rebel. They believe that sorcery is evil. If you tell everyone the truth about your father, that may be no better. They will think your mind has been poisoned, and if they know that Merlin has magic they will blame him and turn on him."

It's not what Arthur wants to hear, but Leon is right. "I know. Things cannot change overnight. But this is our course, and I will not back down from the challenge. There will be small changes first, and we must discover who can be trusted. Some will never be free of my father's lies, but I believe that most will see reason, if we are patient with them. I intend to start with the Druids. They are a peaceful people and should be treated with the respect that they deserve."

The five of them talk for a while longer about magic and who may be sympathetic to it, and they play guessing games about all the times Merlin might have used magic to save their lives. Merlin has always seemed unusually lucky to Arthur, so much so that his luck has spread to everyone around him. But it wasn't luck that brought down rockfalls and branches, wasn't luck that saved their lives again and again.

"Ha!" Gwaine cries, slapping his leg. "Courage, Magic, and Strength, remember that?"

"I should have known," Arthur groans, thinking of how he'd puzzled for days about Grettir's words.

"You keep saying that," Elyan observes, amused.

"Well, I should have," Arthur insists.

"We all should have," Percival says. 

"I'm glad I didn't," Leon says, solemnly. "He would have burned."

"I would not have let him die," Arthur tells him.

"You may not have had a choice," Leon replies. "If your father gave the order, Merlin would have been arrested. If he ran, your father would have stopped at nothing to capture him. To have a sorcerer at the heart of Camelot... You would have been forced to choose between them."

The thought sobers them. Arthur wants to insist that he would have chosen Merlin, wants to believe that he would have found a way to save him. But if he had not known the truth about his parents, if he still believed his father's lies... He's not sure what he would have done. There was merit to Gaius' cautiousness after all. 

"It's late," Arthur tells them, putting an end to talk for the night, though he's certain there will be many days of such discussions ahead of them. Especially once Merlin is back with them to fill in all the missing details. "We make an early start tomorrow. With luck, we will reach the Isle before nightfall."

§

On the third day, Merlin's luck is still with them. They cut through the tunnels of Andor and make it past the wilddeoren without event. Before the morning is over, they pass the old castle where Lancelot returned to them with a healthy, grinning Merlin. It's a good memory, and Arthur carries it with him as they ride on.

They reach the shore of the Seas of Meredor with at least an hour left of daylight. The same stoic ferryman is there to carry them across the water. Aithusa is restless and wary, and Arthur remembers that the last time they came here, there were wyverns. It's likely that here, too, Merlin saved them. Wyverns are related to dragons, after all.

It's almost disconcerting to realize how many of Arthur's successes were not entirely his own. He tries not to feel like too much of a fraud, because self-doubt is never a good thing to nurture before a battle. And he can hardly be angry with Merlin for saving his life, or for being unable to take the credit for his victories. But he will welcome the day when he can have his Dragonlord and sorcerer openly by his side, and lavish him with so many gifts and rewards that he will squirm and blush for days, and be terribly embarrassed every time someone calls him Sir Merlin. Or Lord Merlin. Or perhaps an entirely new title, befitting a royally-appointed sorcerer.

He may also be planning an official hat. With feathers. If he's feeling magnanimous, he'll only make Merlin wear it on official occasions.

Arthur realizes that despite his anxiety at facing Morgana, despite his fear for Merlin's life, despite the many secrets he has learned since Merlin's disappearance, he feels more himself now than he has in a long time. Perhaps since he saw Morgana take the crown and the throne and reveal her true nature, her true heritage. Discovering Morgana's secrets had broken his heart, but discovering Merlin's has done much to heal it.

He had thought he was alone, but he wasn't. Merlin has always been with him, even when Arthur could not see him. Despite all the lies and all the secrets around them, Merlin has been true to him, and Arthur knows now what his heart wants.

His reign is only just beginning. He has the time to do things right, to help his people and make his kingdom into something brighter and better. It's a vision he's nursed in his heart all his life, and he wants it more than anything.

Well, almost anything.

The ferryman takes them back to the same part of the ruins as before, and Arthur clears his mind, focuses on the task ahead. They still do not know what Morgana has done here, what condition Merlin is in. There will be little room for error.

They see the wyverns circling overhead, and Aithusa hisses angrily up at them.

"Aithusa, stay," Arthur tells her, worried that she will be hurt because they are so much larger than her. But he is no Dragonlord and Aithusa ignores him to fly up to confront them. A shocking roar pours from her little body and she breathes out plumes of dragonfire, and Arthur realizes just how lucky they are that she didn't burp and burn down the city. The wyverns turn tail and she chases them away, then turns on another pair that were drawn by the commotion.

"Come on," Arthur tells them, and they hurry on. They reach the cavernous courtyard and decaying towers still loom over the space, the stone marred with cracks and smothered by ivy, but this time there is no gaping wound in the world, no cackling Cailleach to greet them. There is only Merlin, lying on the stone plinth just as he did in the vision in Arthur's dream, pale and unmoving.

They rush forward, and Arthur wants to sob with relief when he sees that Merlin is still alive, still breathing.

"He's alive," he says, because he has to. He grabs Merlin and shakes him as he did in his dream, but Merlin is limp and unresponsive. Arthur pulls him up into a sit, and Merlin's head lolls.

"What's wrong with him?" Gwaine asks, cradling Merlin's head.

The others draw their swords and circle around the plinth, and Arthur turns to see a dark, ragged figure in the doorway. For a moment he thinks the Cailleach has returned, but it's Morgana. She's dressed all in black, and when she draws back her hood, her long hair is matted and wild. The last time he saw her, she had been resplendent upon the throne, the soft curls of her hair stark against the fine white fabric of her dress. She had looked triumphant as their father's crown was placed upon her head, and she looks triumphant now.

"Took you long enough," she says, walking slowly towards them, heedless of their swords.

Arthur lays Merlin back down on the plinth and draws his own sword. "What have you done to him?"

"Not enough," Morgana says, true hatred in her voice. "You will not be so eager to protect him once you know what he is."

"I already do," Arthur says. "He is a Dragonlord. He has magic."

But far from surprising her, his words only make her angrier. "And still you came?" she says, lip curled in a sneer. "Perhaps I had it all wrong. You're not his slave after all. Instead he is _yours._ " She laughs. "Did you share him with Uther? Did the three of you conspire while I was left to suffer and fear my own dreams?"

"That's enough," Arthur says, angry himself.

"Do not tell me what is _enough_ ," Morgana snarls, and she's nearly upon them now. He can see the wildness in her eyes. "He has done nothing but betray my kind. He does not deserve to be Emrys."

The name startles him. "What? Emrys is Dragoon, that old man--"

She laughs. "Emrys is an honor, and he treats it as a disguise. It is a title, a gift of the Old Religion, and one that was foolishly given. It's time to correct that mistake."

She waves her hand and sends them all flying, skidding across the stone floor. They have the wind knocked out of them, but quick enough they're all climbing back to their feet. They rush forward, but something forces them back, and Arthur is reminded of the resistance he felt when he'd tried to reach Merlin in the dream.

"Patience, dear brother," Morgana says, touching the back of her hand to Merlin's pale cheek. "You will be reunited with him soon enough."

"Leave him alone!" Arthur roars.

"Do you know, at first I thought only of revenge," she says, tilting her head as she recalls some memory. "I wanted to make him pay for what he did to me, to my beloved sister. So I poured hemlock down his throat."

Arthur feels sick. "How could you?"

"He did it to me first," Morgana spits. "I wanted him to suffer as I suffered, to hear him plead and beg for his life. But I couldn't do it while he was awake. The Old Religion gave him too much power." She gives a disbelieving laugh. "So much power he wouldn't die."

Arthur glances at the knights, and he knows they're all thinking the same thing. The Dorocha and Merlin's impossible recovery, too welcome to be questioned. Just how powerful a sorcerer is Merlin, is Emrys?

Merlin tried to heal his father. _It was Merlin._ That was why he had been so evasive. That was the secret Gaius would not tell him. And all Arthur can think is how familiar Dragoon's eyes were. Merlin's eyes. He should have known, just from the eyes.

"This ruined isle was once more beautiful than any palace," Morgana says, looking around at the grey walls, the crumbling towers. "It was the heart of the Old Religion, teeming with others like me. Now it is a ruin and I am all that is left. Merlin destroyed the others. Destroyed those whose task it was to safeguard the magic of the land. Nimueh. Morgause. Together we would have restored magic to this place and turned Camelot into a ruin." She looks to Arthur again. "It's left to me now."

"You don't have to do this," Arthur tells her. He strains against the resistance but it's like trying to press himself through a stone wall. He sees a shadow move among the towers, but tries not to look up. He doesn't know if it's a wyvern or Aithusa. "I'm not your enemy. Merlin is not your enemy. We don't want to fight you."

"It's a bit late for that, don't you think?" she sneers.

"You attacked us!" Arthur shouts, incredulous. 

"We took back what was ours," Morgana says, moving away from Merlin to stare at Arthur through the invisible barrier. "Camelot belongs to the Old Religion. It has always belonged to us, until you stole it."

" _Our father_ did that," Arthur throws back. "I will accept responsibility for my own actions but I will _not_ carry his guilt. He's dead, Morgana. You killed him! It's over! Why can't you see that?"

His words seem to shake her, but she recovers quickly. "Because you're the same as he is. The crown should be mine. That is the only way the prophecy can be truly fulfilled."

"The prophecy?"

"Oh yes," Morgana says, stepping back to Merlin again. She brushes a stray hair from his forehead. "The union of crown and magic. The two halves of Camelot restored to one glorious whole. That is what the Druids expect of their precious Emrys. But they are wrong. Who better to unite crown and magic than I? The daughter of a king and a high priestess? And all I have to do is kill you both."

Arthur staggers forward as the resistance suddenly gives way, nearly stumbling right into Morgana. His sword drops from his nerveless hand as his whole body goes limp, yet he remains standing, held up by Morgana's magic. He can hear the knights shouting for him, unable to reach them.

"Look," she says, plucking at the mail over his heart. "See what magic has done to Uther Pendragon's precious son."

Arthur's head tilts forward, and he sees golden light shining from his chest. A sinuous cord flows out of him and into Merlin's heart.

"There is a bond between you," she sneers, as if disgusted by it. "The Druids say it is your destiny. The breaking of it shall be the end of your reign and the beginning of mine."

 _Don't do this_ , Arthur begs, but he can't move his lips to speak.

Morgana takes his sword from the ground and raises it high. A memory flashes before him of Morgana when she was young and smiling and joyful, beating him soundly on the practice field, her face glowing with triumph and sweat. She had been so happy, they had all been so happy.

[](http://versaphile.com/files/thegoldencord_16th-of-a-twigg.jpg)  
The Golden Cord by [16th-of-a-twigg](http://16th-of-a-twigg.tumblr.com/) (click for full size)

But before she can strike, before she can break whatever magic binds them together, Aithusa comes roaring down from above, flames surging from her mouth. Morgana cries out and falls back, and Arthur nearly falls as he is released from her magical grip. He grabs Merlin and hauls him over his shoulder and runs.

"With me!" Arthur shouts, and the knights fall behind him as they run back the way they came in. They have to get Merlin out of here, away from Morgana. 

"How dare you!" Morgana screams at Aithusa, furious. "How dare you protect them!"

He hears Aithusa roar, and then the little dragon is with them, flying around them in frantic circles as they run into the second courtyard.

"Aithusa!" Arthur calls, trying to calm her down. "Aithusa!"

But Aithusa doesn't listen. She lands on Merlin and starts pulling frantically at him, trying to take him back towards Morgana. For such a small creature she's surprisingly strong.

"Stop it," he tells her, tightening his grip on Merlin. "We have to go right now!"

"Merlin!" she cries, pulling so hard that Arthur staggers. "Merlin Merlin Merlin!"

"I think we have to go back," Leon says, barely believing it himself.

"Are you completely mad?" Gwaine says, eyes wide.

"Merlin!" Aithusa cries, and with a huge pull drags Merlin from Arthur's shoulders. He falls heavily to the floor, dragging her down with him, and she flaps frantically to pull him after her.

"He's not waking up," Arthur realizes. "Whatever she's done to him, we have to make her stop it."

"She's insane!" Gwaine shouts. "We have to get him back to Camelot. Maybe the Druids can fix him."

"I have to trust Aithusa," Arthur says, not entirely understanding it himself but knowing he's right. That Aithusa didn't come all this way just to let Merlin die.

He goes to Aithusa and pulls her to him, cradles her as he did when she first crawled into his chambers. Her eyes are wide and she is frantic with worry. He hushes her and soothes her until she stops trying to get away, and puts her on his shoulders. She digs her claws into his mail and wraps her tail firmly around him.

Arthur hauls Merlin up into his arms and turns to the others. "Stay here," he says.

"Not a chance," Gwaine says, striding forward.

"That's an order," Arthur barks. He looks down at Merlin. The golden cord is no longer visible between them, but the knowledge of it is enough.

He walks back into the large courtyard. Morgana is on the floor, her hair and dress singed from Aithusa's fire. 

He walks over to her, shoving all his fear aside. He has a baby dragon on his back and an unconscious sorcerer in his arms. He can't fight but that's not what he's here to do. It is not victory he seeks, but peace.

"Enough," he tells her, with all the command of a king. "That is _enough_ , Morgana."

She snarls at him. "Who are you to--"

"I am your king!" he tells her, loudly. "And I am your brother, and even if that means nothing to you it still matters to me. You are my family. You are all I have left. Stop trying to kill me and _listen_ to me."

Morgana stares at him, taken aback. She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at him. "Fine. I'm listening."

Arthur sighs and lays Merlin down on the floor beside them. Aithusa leaps from Arthur's shoulders and clings to Merlin, whining and nosing at him.

He doesn't know what to say. So much has happened. He isn't the same man he was, isn't the man she thinks he is. He still doesn't know how to reach her. But if he could find a way to make peace with Annis after killing Caerleon and bringing their kingdoms to the brink of war, surely he can think of some way to show Morgana that his words are genuine.

And then he has an idea.

He can't remember it exactly, but he tries to replicate the gesture that Gaius made towards Aithusa. It must be close enough, because Morgana's eyes widen.

"Where did you learn that?" she asks, shocked.

"Gaius," Arthur says, meeting her eyes, keeping his features calm and unthreatening. "I want to learn more. I want to know about the Old Religion."

Morgana laughs in disbelief. "You don't even know what it means."

"No," Arthur says. "But you are the last High Priestess. Who else am I going to ask?"

Morgana stares at him. Stares at Aithusa, at Merlin. 

"Arthur," Aithusa says, and Arthur gapes at her.

"She said my name," he says, smiling, and turns back to Morgana. "She said my name."

Morgana just stares at him as if she doesn't recognize him at all.

Arthur smiles fades, and he sobers. "Morgana, I want to change things. When I get back, I'm going to start removing the laws against magic. I think the Old Religion needs to be a part of that. I can't do it on my own. I need Merlin. I need you."

When she doesn't respond, Arthur continues on, because this may be the only chance he has to make peace between them, real peace.

"Don't let him win. We're better than him, Morgana. We are so much better than he ever was. We can do this together. We can bring it all back."

Morgana looks away from him, blinking, and Arthur knows that Morgana learned the same lessons that he did, growing up. Lessons of the head and not the heart, of vengeance and cruelty, unforgiving of weakness.

"Please, Morgana," he says, softly. "Help me."

She sniffs, and when she turns back to him her eyes are bright with unshed tears. "If you betray me, I will slaughter you where you stand," she warns.

Arthur can't help but smile. "I would expect nothing less." He looks to Aithusa again, and she seems pleased. She crawls to Morgana and noses at her apologetically.

Morgana's hand trembles as she reaches for the little dragon and touches her. Aithusa rubs against her hand and says, "Morgana. Merlin!"

Morgana gives a long sigh. "Very well, then. But don't expect me to forgive him."

Arthur shrugs. One step at a time. He watches as Morgana murmurs a long string of strange words, and her eyes glow bright and gold. Merlin gasps and stirs, and as soon as his eyes open he skitters back in fear.

"It's all right," Arthur says, hurrying after him and grabbing him. "She's not going to hurt you."

"Much," Morgana says with a smile, and Arthur glares at her.

"What?" Merlin says, looking between them with confusion. "Arthur, what?"

"Is it safe to come in now?" Gwaine asks from the doorway.

"I think I missed something," Merlin mutters.

"Oh, you have _no_ idea," Arthur says, and ruffles Merlin's hair furiously.


	5. Chapter 5

"I don't get it," Elyan says, as the boat carries them back to shore. "We're just letting her go?"

"That's exactly what we're doing," Arthur says.

The knights all look at each other with shared confusion. Then they look at Merlin.

"I don't understand it either," Merlin says, shrugging. "Arthur, did you go mad while I was unconscious?"

"Sometimes it felt like it," Arthur admits. "For instance, I found out that my manservant has been lying to me for years and is secretly a powerful sorcerer."

Merlin pales and grips the side of the boat as if he might faint and fall out. Arthur grabs his arm, worried that he _will_ faint and fall out.

"Easy, easy," he says, as Merlin hyperventilates. "I'm not mad at you. Well, actually, I'm furious, but of the many ways I'm going to punish you, none of them involve pyres or exile."

"What about hanging?" Merlin says, faintly.

"There will be no forms of capital punishment," Arthur promises.

"That's good," Merlin says, but he doesn't look very reassured. He's almost as pale as he was when he was lying on the stone plinth, and if they were on solid ground he probably would have already made a run for it.

"What do you remember?" Arthur prompts, trying to stop Merlin from slipping into shock.

"Um. We went to the caves. Morgana found me, knocked me out. Then I was in her hovel, and then she was taking me somewhere. And then I woke up here. Am I here?" Merlin looks at them uncertainly.

"Yeah, you're here," Gwaine says, slapping him on the leg.

"Aithusa!" Merlin says suddenly, and starts to panic.

"It's okay," Arthur says, wishing he had some rope so he could tie Merlin to his seat because he doesn't fancy fishing him out of the water. "Aithusa wanted to stay, remember? To help Morgana?" 

Merlin isn't entirely back with them yet. Arthur had pointed this out to Morgana, and she had shrugged and said he would be fine in a few days, but she was willing to make him hurt for longer if he was offering. Arthur decided that it would be best if he keeps the two of them far away from each other for the time being. Far, far away.

"Oh. Right," Merlin says, and shivers, rubs at his arms. 

"It's just for a few weeks," Arthur reminds him. "Then she's staying with us. You are her Dragonlord."

Merlin pales even further at that, and he looks like he might be sick or faint or both at once. Arthur leans him forward with his head between his knees and rubs circles on his back to soothe him. The knights smirk behind their hands, and Arthur silently dares them to say anything.

It's dark by the time they reach the shore and Merlin is in no condition to ride, so they set up camp a little way into the woods. Arthur helps Merlin into his jacket and Merlin squints at it as Percival starts a fire.

"What happened to my jacket?" Merlin asks, peering at the scratches and brushing off fragments of dried herbs and leaf litter.

"You have a very possessive dragon," Gwaine says, and brushes more bits of leaf and herb from the back of the jacket.

Arthur wraps a blanket around Merlin, and then another because Merlin still looks like a slight breeze will topple him. Being tortured, poisoned, and ensorcelled for eight days took quite a lot out of him. Arthur probably could have better handled telling Merlin that he knows about every one of his secrets. He couldn't resist getting some of his own back, but the shock was a bit too much for Merlin on top of everything else.

When Merlin had been abducted, Agravaine had been Arthur's most trusted advisor, Gaius was in mortal danger, Morgana was the enemy, and Arthur wanted absolutely nothing to do with magic. If all the changes were a lot for Arthur to deal with, they're even harder for Merlin to wake up to all at once.

He also hasn't eaten in eight days, or had anything to drink that didn't have hemlock in it. It's amazing that he can even walk and that's probably only due to his magic and however it's kept him alive all this time. They make a thin broth for him to drink and Merlin works his way through it in little sips, then practically collapses into sleep, the empty bowl tumbling from his hands as his head thumps softly against the tree he's propped up on. Arthur tuts over him, and he and Percival pick Merlin up and bundle him up by the fire for the night.

"Think he'll be all right?" Gwaine asks, as he feeds more wood into the flames.

"Yes," Arthur says, carding his hand idly through Merlin's hair. He doesn't just think it, he knows it, and touches over his heart, wondering about the golden cord. About destiny. The Great Dragon had said something about destiny as well. And hadn't Merlin once blithered on to him about destiny? They had been preparing to fight Cenred, and Merlin had said something about Arthur being the greatest king Camelot has ever known. "Gaius said that he's the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth."

"Greatest sorcerer ever?" Gwaine says, eyebrows raised. "Sneaky little bastard."

Arthur hums in agreement. "Don't think that means anything to me," he tells Merlin. "You're still an idiot." Merlin sleeps on obliviously, entirely failing to rise to his bait.

§

The next morning, they have to go through telling Merlin everything again, because apparently he was so out of it the night before that none of it stuck. He doesn't look quite as likely to pass out this time around, which Arthur takes as a victory.

"Stop being so jumpy," Arthur chides, because he's getting tired of Merlin being so wide-eyed and twitchy.

"Sorry," Merlin says, again.

"And stop apologizing," Arthur complains. "I'm starting to think I should have let Morgana knock you out again. At least until I could leave you with Gaius. Let him deal with you."

Merlin flinches, but he manages not to apologize again. Arthur rolls his eyes and continues readying his horse.

"You want to ride with one of us, Merlin?" Gwaine asks, his tone friendly as he gives Arthur a sideways look.

Merlin looks at Gwaine, then looks at Arthur, and he seems to go through a good half-dozen emotions in the space of a few seconds. "Thanks, but I'll ride with Arthur." And then he looks uncertain. "I mean, um."

Arthur gives him a look that says 'of course you're riding with me, idiot,' and Merlin looks back with 'I'm very relieved and also embarrassed and don't know if you trust me anymore but I want to prove myself to you.' It's amazing that they need to bother with actual conversations, really.

Then again, not talking to each other properly is part of what got them into this mess to begin with. That's another thing that's going to change once they're back. The list is getting rather long.

"Come on, you're in front," Arthur says, patting the saddle.

"I can ride in back," Merlin insists.

"You're barely able to walk," Arthur reminds him. "The last thing you need is a tumble from a horse. Your head is addled enough as it is."

Merlin grumbles, but once they're settled and on their way, Arthur feels Merlin relax against him. Arthur has his arms around Merlin's waist, one hand on the reins, and Merlin rests his own hands on Arthur's forearms. Merlin fits easily against him, the horses move along at an ambling gait, and Arthur finally feels like he can breathe again.

He has so many challenges ahead of him. His kingdom is a jumble of pieces that don't entirely fit together, but he's determined to bring them together. He never expected it to be easy to be king, and he wouldn't want it to be. It would be terribly dull.

Merlin has often displayed a talent for sleeping in odd places, so it's not a surprise when he manages to doze off in Arthur's arms. Arthur settles Merlin's head against his shoulder and tightens his grip, and lets Merlin sleep for an hour before they stop for lunch. For a moment Arthur is worried that they'll have to go through telling him everything again, but Merlin rubs his face and gives Arthur a muzzy smile.

They give Merlin more broth, and pieces of bread and cheese for him to nibble on, and between that and the nap Merlin looks a bit more like himself again. The knights are visibly relieved, Gwaine especially.

"We should go through the mountain pass," Leon says. "It's only an extra day's ride, and there's no point in risking the wilddeoren again."

"Agreed," Arthur nods. 

"Fine by me," Gwaine agrees, looking particularly glad. "Those berries stink something awful, right Merlin?"

"Yeah," Merlin says, and scrunches up his nose. "They're really bad."

"The pass is pretty bare. We'll need additional supplies," Elyan says, scanning the forest for potential game.

"I'll help," Percival says, and Leon rises to join them, and the three of them set out for a short hunt.

Merlin stares after them, his lip pulled between his teeth. 

"Give 'em time," Gwaine tells him. "It's been a shock for them too."

Merlin looks to Gwaine, his eyes large and apologetic. Arthur decides that Aithusa definitely picked that up from Merlin. He misses the little dragon already, but she had been very clear about wanting to stay with Morgana for a while. Arthur supposes it makes as much sense as anything does anymore. Besides, if anyone will be a good influence on Morgana, it'll be Aithusa. She could melt the hardest of hearts.

"What about you?" Merlin asks.

"Of course it's been a shock for me," Gwaine says, slapping Merlin on the arm. "You scared the life out of me, you know that? _Not_ the magic thing," he chides, as Merlin starts looking guilty again. "If you think I'm letting you go off on your own again, you are sorely mistaken."

"I can take care of myself," Merlin pouts.

"Oh, yeah, you've done a bang-up job," Gwaine says, unimpressed. "Arthur says you're supposed to be some kind of all-powerful sorcerer."

Merlin looks askance at Arthur, and swallows nervously. "Something like that."

"So let's see some magic, then."

"Gwaine," Arthur warns.

Gwaine ignores him. "C'mon, show me your big secret."

"He's still exhausted," Arthur says.

"No, it's alright," Merlin interrupts, clearly eager to stop them from arguing about him. "I can do something small."

Arthur hasn't seen Merlin do any magic either, or at least not where he could see it and know it was happening. It's one thing to guess about the many times in his life magic was done right under his nose and behind his back. It's quite another to ask for magic intentionally. From Merlin's anxious expression, it's clear that this is strange for him as well, and that he knows the weight this moment carries. The last time Merlin did magic in front of Arthur he was disguised as Dragoon, and Morgana's charm sabotaged his healing spell. It was hardly an auspicious beginning.

Arthur gives Merlin a reassuring smile that says 'I trust you' and 'you don't have to be afraid' and 'I'm nervous, too.' Merlin looks back gratefully.

Merlin straightens up and fixes his eyes on a stick lying on the ground. His eyes glow and the stick rises and floats before them. " _Forbærne_ ," Merlin whispers, and the end of the stick bursts into flame and then subsides to embers. " _Upastige draca!_ " he says, louder this time, and the embers fly from the burnt stick and take shape together.

"Aithusa," Arthur murmurs, smiling as he recognizes her outline.

"Okay, that's pretty amazing," Gwaine admits.

The gold fades from Merlin's eyes, and the embers snuff out, the stick falls. Merlin slumps back, worn out from the display.

"Sorry," Merlin mutters. "Everything's still..." He waves his hand as if explaining something, then gives up in frustration.

"Give yourself some time," Arthur says, gently. "You've been through a lot."

"I hate this," Merlin says, frustration edging his voice. "What if she hurts Aithusa? What if--"

"I have to trust Morgana," Arthur says, hoping Merlin will understand. "It's just like you said. Compassion and mercy are what Camelot needs, not bloodshed."

Merlin gives a weak smile. "So you do listen to me sometimes."

"Sometimes," Arthur agrees. "Aithusa will be fine. She'll be back before you know it."

Merlin looks like he's trying desperately to believe him, but he's still afraid. Arthur scoots closer to him and wraps his arm around Merlin, tugs him to lean against him. Gwaine gives a flicker of surprise, and Arthur gives a little gesture with his head.

"I'm going to stretch my legs," Gwaine says. "See if I can find some fresh water."

Once Gwaine is gone, Merlin sighs and slumps against Arthur, no longer hiding his weariness.

"Does it still hurt?" Arthur asks, quietly.

"Yeah," Merlin admits. "It's better but..." He takes a ragged breath. "I'm fairly sure I should be dead right now."

"Like when you threw yourself into the Dorocha?"

Merlin ducks his head. "I'm not trying to make a habit of it, Arthur."

"Well, stop it, then," Arthur says. "Apparently we have a destiny together. How am I going to fulfill it if you're dead?"

Merlin sits up and stares at him, truly shocked. "How did you--"

"Morgana. The Great Dragon." Merlin's eyes grow even wider. "Even Gaius knows about it. Everyone but me."

Merlin has the grace to look ashamed. "I wanted to tell you. You don't know how many times..."

"I know," Arthur says, because he does. He does understand, but it still hurts that Merlin didn't trust him. "I forgive you, alright? But I'm still going to be angry for a while."

Merlin nods, his face a mixture of guilt and relief, and tears are welling in his eyes. "Arthur," he says, meaningfully.

If Merlin had looked at him this way just over a week ago, Arthur would have ruffled his hair or shoved him or tossed some empty insult at him. He would have seen the love and need in Merlin's eyes and pushed it aside, provided a distraction because he didn't want to face it. But he wants to face it now. He reaches up and cups Merlin's cheek, his thumb brushing gently over his cheekbone, and Merlin closes his eyes, leans so lightly against his hand, as if unable to trust that it will still be there if he relies on it.

"I'm here," Arthur whispers. "You're safe now."

The tears spill from Merlin's eyes, silent but plentiful. Merlin swallows a whimper, and Arthur pulls him into his arms and holds him tight as the sobs break from his chest, deep and wretched. It's not just about Morgana capturing him and hurting him, not just about fear and exhaustion, not just about the terror of being _known_. It's everything, all the years of pain he's had to swallow down because he couldn't let anyone see it. Arthur's heart hurts for him, that there is so much pain.

Merlin cries himself empty, and by the end he's simply done. When the others return, Gwaine with full waterskins and the others with a brace of rabbits, Merlin is curled up asleep with his head on Arthur's lap. Arthur presses his finger to his lips so they won't wake him.

There's no hurry for them to get back, so they let Merlin rest as the rabbits roast. Merlin sleeps all through the afternoon and evening, the only sign of life his steady and even breathing under the blankets.

It's still dark when Arthur wakes, and he's confused for a moment until he sees Merlin beside him, eyes glittering in the darkness.

"Hey," Arthur says, softly. "Feeling better?"

Merlin nods, and he pushes back his blankets but doesn't move. He seems to be full of things he doesn't know how to say, or things he's too afraid to voice. He glances up at Percival, who is sitting a little way from the fire, looking out into the trees. Then he looks back at Arthur, and licks his lips, ducks his head and looks up at Arthur through his lashes.

 _Oh_ , Arthur thinks, and _Yes._ And before Merlin can work up the courage, before he can make the first move, Arthur takes it for himself. He slides silently across the narrow distance between them and captures Merlin's lips with his own. Merlin gives a tiny squeak of surprise, a sharp breath of joy, and kisses back like his life depends on it.

" _Arthur_ ," Merlin whispers, ragged with longing.

Arthur breaks the kiss, holding Merlin back with a hand against his chest. Merlin looks like he physically hurts to not be kissing Arthur right now, but Arthur shakes his head, smiles. "When we're home," he whispers.

Merlin presses his face against the bedroll and groans softly. Arthur sympathizes, but he knows that once they start, they might not be able to stop, and he's not keen on the idea of putting on a show for his knights, however much he trusts them. 

Arthur reaches across and takes Merlin's hand, holds it tightly. "Go back to sleep," Arthur tells him.

"Can't," Merlin says, voice muffled by the bedroll.

Arthur snorts lightly. "We have a lot of riding ahead of us. Sleep." He squeezes Merlin's hand, and Merlin squeezes back. Merlin sighs and pulls the blankets back over himself, shifts so he's lying on his side facing Arthur. Arthur matches him and keeps holding his hand.

Arthur doesn't know what they're going to do once they're home. They'll have to keep things quiet at first, because it will be enough of a challenge to get the court and the people to accept both the Old Religion and the greatest sorcerer ever to have lived. Nothing about this is exactly rife with precedent. But Arthur doesn't want them to have to hide. He is done with secrets, and he wants Merlin to be by his side for the rest of his life. He wants to rule Camelot with his heart, all of it and not just what is deemed suitably appropriate. 

It will be hard work, building the kingdom they are destined for. But they'll get there. They'll get there.

§

"If I had the gift of prophecy  
And all knowledge  
And the faith to move the mountains  
Even if I understood all of the mysteries  
If I didn't have love  
I'd be nothing"  
\- Joni Mitchell

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Entrusted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/965328) by [alby_mangroves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alby_mangroves/pseuds/alby_mangroves)




End file.
